The Blood Dimmed Tide
by Jeitiiea
Summary: The evolution of Shepard and Garrus' relationship through the events of ME2.
1. Prelude

**A/N - **The goal for this fic is to provide depth and context to the relationship of Shepard and Garrus, while staying within the bounds of estabished canon. In that respect, I will include specific, relevant scenes from gameplay, along with original scenes.

This story is dedicated to Brandon Keener, the absolutely amazing voice actor who truly brought Garrus to life, because it was my love for Garrus that inspired me to write in this 'verse.

**Update: **I have _finally_ gotten around to rewriting the prologue for this story. Now that it's developed a life of its own, I felt it deserved a proper introductory chapter. :)

* * *

Shepard was dying.

Twisting. Tumbling. The Normandy splintered and cracked apart in the silence of space. Burning. Burning. Her lungs were burning, desperate for air. Her hands frantically clawed over her shoulders, grasping blindly for the air tube that hissed her life away into the void.

All she knew was the sense of burning. The Normandy, above her. The planet, below her. Her lungs, inside her.

Shepard breathed in and there was nothing there but cold and it tasted of death. Funny. She'd always thought she'd die with the taste of blood on her tongue. In the brief, splintered flashes of coherence between sharp bursts of panic, the frantic Commander tried to accept what was happening. She had saved the crew. She'd saved Joker. Hell, she'd even saved the Citadel. But nobody was going to save her, not before her air hissed away into the deep.

She was dying. She'd damned well saved everyone else, and surely that was enough for one lifetime. Surely she could give up now. She wanted to.

The problem was – the real bitch of it all was – Shepard didn't know how to give up. The only damn thing she knew how to do was fight, so she did. She fought for each second. She fought until the evac pods pushed off from the dying hull of the Normandy. She fought until she knew they were safe. And then she just fought for air, each breath tiny and gasping and smaller than the last.

Then when she couldn't breathe anymore, she fought to keep her eyes open.

And when they closed against the last flash of gleaming stars, she fought just to keep thinking. Flashes of cognizance that unravelled with each dragging second.

The cold sunk into her bones until the thoughts wouldn't come anymore and maybe it was time to give up at last and –

_NO!_

She was breathing.

She was breathing, there was sound. She was thinking. Her mind spawning its way back into awareness in lurching bursts of cognizance.

"...my god, Miranda, I think she's waking up..."

She could think. She could breathe. Shepard didn't know how to stop fighting, so she just kept doing it. Fought to open her eyes again, because she was damned if she was going to give up now. The light was like razor wire to her eyeballs, blinding and clawing into her brain. But she wasn't giving up now.

"...she's not ready yet... the sedative..."

Sound was intermittent, but her eyes were open and she could see a shape. White and outlined in black, hovering before her. The sounds didn't make any sense, so she focussed on what did matter. Breathing. Breathing mattered.

But it was hard to control it. Her lungs still thought they were burning and Shepard couldn't stop the sharp, savage gasps for air.

"...heart rate's still climbing... brain activity is off the scale... stat's pushing into the red zone!"

She could think, but it was scattered and out of control. She could breathe, but it was tearing her lungs apart in frantic hyperventilation.

"Another dose – now!"

The white-and-black shape before her moved and Shepard's vision blurred again. She couldn't think, so she fell back on instinct. Her breathing was steady. Her breathing was safe. Her thoughts drifted, and her eyes closed, but she'd fought to breathe and she'd won. She'd won, damn it.

"...too close... we almost lost her..."

_If I can breathe, then I'm alive. The bastards haven't beaten me yet._

Her eyes closed but she could feel her lungs moving, slow and steady. The sounds faded and there was silence, but in the silence, she breathed.

She lived.

She slept.

"Wake up, Commander!"

_Pain_.

The voice broke her world apart and she knew pain. Her awareness snapped into focus and it was defined by sharp, broken shards of pain.

"Shepard, do you hear me?"

It wasn't like anything she'd ever felt before, but that didn't matter. Shepard understood pain.

"Get out of that bed now – this facility is under attack!"

Shepard let a lungful of air drift slowly past her lips and gloried in the triumph of breathing. She could think, and breathe. She forced her eyes open, and was greeted with the blinding white brilliance of a pristine, sparkling medical lab ceiling.

She was alive.

She had to be alive, because being dead couldn't hurt this fucking much.

"Shepard, your scars aren't healed, but I need you to get moving. This facility is under attack."

She had the disorienting sense that a great deal of time had passed, much as one did when coming to after being knocked unconscious. It was a sensation Shepard was far too intimately familiar with and that, combined with the overwhelming medical feel of her surroundings, had her deciding she believed in miracles.

For once, someone had damned well saved her. She just wasn't sure whether it had happened before or after she died.

The voice over the radio was getting quite insistent, with a note of panic threading through the accented words. To her surprise, Shepard found herself in a distinctly serene frame of mind as she reviewed the situation. Perhaps it was due to being unexpectedly and inexplicably alive. As she moved to sit up, Shepard felt pain rip its way along every muscle in her body, her face twisting into a grimace. A sudden, blinding red shot raced across her blurry vision. It froze her still, because Shepard knew that flash all too well. The cast of light, the pattern of it. The sounds.

Gunfire.

She was moving before she even realized it. It hurt like fucking hell, but Shepard forced herself to sit up, levered her legs off the bed and her bare feet hit ground. Another moment and she was standing on her own, her vision clearing more with each passing second. The pounding of adrenaline through her system was clearing her head as quickly as any medical stimulants ever had.

_I'm in a hospital gown, I hurt like hell, I think I may have just died, and I'm still being attacked. Great._

"There's a pistol in a locker on the other side of the room. Hurry!"

Shepard's head turned sharply to peer across the room, eyes narrowing to try to focus. A weapon sounded like a _fucking_ _brilliant_ _idea_ just about now and she embraced the concept whole-heartedly. Grimacing, she began to limp towards the locker.

"You don't have time to wait around, Shepard."

The injured woman hissed slightly in pain as she lurched across the room. Shepard made it to the locker and pried it open with bare hands, blinking in bemused pleasure when she realized it held armor, as well as a gun. _Her_ _N7_ _armor_.

The gunfire was still going on outside, and Shepard began dragging on the armor.

As she did so, she considered the situation as carefully as her still slightly fuzzy brain permitted. She was scarred and everything hurt, but there didn't seem to be any kind of wounds or damage. She had no idea where she was, how she'd gotten here, or how long she'd been there. She had no idea who was fighting who in the halls outside this lab. It was entirely probable that the explanations for all of those things were going to be reasonably unpleasant, but for just this moment, none of that mattered.

She hefted the pistol and grinned tightly.

She was back in armor. She had a gun.

She was Commander Shepard and she was fucking alive.

Anything else, she would handle as it came up.

* * *

_Cerberus_. _Fucking_ _Cerberus_.

Twisted, xenophobic fanatics with a terrorist bent who spent far too much time playing about with Petri dishes and eye droppers. It had been Cerberus who were behind the sick experiments with the rachni and the thorians creepers. Cerberus, who had lured Alliance Marines into thresher maws for the sake of scientific research. Cerberus, who had turned human colonists into fucking husks.

And it was Cerberus who had murdered Rear Admiral Kahoku.

Now Cerberus were her only allies, and that made her skin crawl.

Shepard operated on instinct and raw determination throughout the mission to Freedom's Progress, relying on her ability to compartmentalise to see her through it. Once she stopped distracting herself with immediate issues, three key facts surfaced to spiral around and around in her mind insistently.

_The Normandy was destroyed. My team is alive. I was dead for two years._

One bright relief squeezed between two horrors. The Illusive Man had been blunt as hell about the fact that her old team was alive, but otherwise engaged. All except for Garrus, who had apparently vanished from the galaxy completely. The thought that he, too, could be dead – killed in some anonymous, idiotic little fire fight somewhere, with nobody to mourn him – made her heart clench in her chest. Strangely, that stung more than learning she'd been stone cold dead for two years.

_At least I'm not a clone. Fucking Cerberus._

The Commander had nearly lost everything to take out _one_ Reaper. She didn't have a clue how many hundreds, thousands, millions, were waiting to crawl into their galaxy and gobble up every living organic being.

The world had changed forever while she was dead, and she was stuck with this fucked-up version where Cerberus were her only allies. So she would fight with them, because it was her nature to fight and being dead hadn't changed her determination to destroy the Reapers. The Alliance had disavowed the Reaper threat, but ignoring it didn't make it go away.

So Shepard stood before the great puppet-master of Cerberus, looked the Illusive Man square in the eye and signed on for another suicide mission.

Alone.

Because at the end of the day, she had no choice.

* * *

Shepard left her post-Freedom's Progress debriefing with the Illusive Man feeling like the ground had dropped out from underneath her again. Staring at the familiar frame awkwardly limping ahead of her, the Commander reflected that it was an experience she should be growing accustomed to. Lately, every time she felt she had a handle on what was going on, the universe seemed to turn inside out and leave her questioning whether she was going insane.

Like seeing her pilot on a Cerberus station.

Joker led her through the corridors away from the Illusive Man's communication chamber, his step awkward and limping in that very familiar way. It was hard to believe he was really here. It almost felt like he was the ghost, not her.

"I can't believe it's you, Joker," Shepard managed after a moment, letting her eyes feast on him. His tilting, brittle-boned walk, the baseball cap, the three-day-stubble that graced his jaw. The former pilot of the Normandy turned to throw her a cocky grin over his shoulder.

"Look who's talking. I saw you get spaced," Joker retorted.

"I got lucky," she answered, following him through the station. Recalling her recent interview with the oh-so-mysterious Illusive Man, Shepard grimaced. "With a lot of strings attached. How'd you get here?"

Not that she was complaining. Oh, hell no. Seeing Tali on Freedom's Progress was like all of her birthdays come at once. If every present she ever got was a kick in the teeth. But this was different. Joker wasn't walking away, and she wasn't even recruiting him. He was already here... with Cerberus. And as much as she trusted him, Shepard had to remind herself that it had been two years. Could she really trust anyone, after that much time?

"It all fell apart without you, Commander," Joker was saying, as they continued through the station to wherever he was taking her. "Everything you stirred up, the Council just wanted it gone. Team was broken up, records sealed, and I was _grounded_." Shepard flinched in sympathy at the raw wound in his voice. "The Alliance took away the one thing that mattered to me. Hell yeah, I joined Cerberus."

Shepard could almost taste the bitterness in his words. Joker could barely walk without breaking a leg bone, thanks to his condition. She knew this man. Flying was his life, it was his purpose. Taking it away... yeah, she could see why he'd turn to damn near anyone who'd give it back to him. But still...

"You really trust the Illusive Man?" she asked sceptically.

Joker threw that familiar smug smirk at her as he paused before a set of doors. "I don't trust anyone who makes more than I do. But they aren't all bad. Saved your life. Let me fly..." He reached out to touch the door controls and they slid open.

The ex-pilot gestured her into what seemed to be a darkened observation room, looking out into the void. Shepard followed silently, curiously.

"And... there's this..." he said quietly, and the first of the lights came on.

It was a ship. That was clear immediately, but it wasn't until Shepard stepped deeper into the observation room that she got her first clear view. It was moving silently, gliding with the slow grace of a predator out of the blackness of space to dock with the station. She had no idea where it had come from, but that first clear view sent a frisson of familiarity down her spine.

She felt vertebrae click into place as she straightened in shock.

It was the Normandy. Except the Normandy was destroyed. _So was I_, she reminded herself.

The station's docking lights glanced across it, illuminating the vessel. All its straight, sleek lines. Clean, sharp angles. Shepard felt her eyes widening in incredulity as she stepped up towards the glass. It cruised in majestic silence towards the waiting docking clamps, and Shepard's eyes locked onto the markings as they passed in front of her.

_SR-2_.

"They only told me last night," Joker said softly to her right and she startled, because she'd forgotten he was there.

The docking clamps locked in place and the vessel rested fully in the light. Shepard's gaze swept over the ship now that she could see it clearly. It was almost impossible to accurately judge size in space, without some kind of comparison, but she had the impression that the SR-2 was much larger than her predecessor. Her throat clenched shut and she couldn't speak. She kept her eyes wide open, unblinking, but she couldn't look away.

"It's good to be home, huh, Commander?" her pilot sighed contentedly.

_Home_.

It was like a miracle.

She had her life. She had a mission. Now Shepard had her home back again. She wasn't blind enough to forget where these miracles had come from, or to ignore the undisclosed price tag attached to them all. But that could be dealt with later.

Shepard let her eyes pause over the achingly empty stretch of hull which had once proclaimed the name of the original ship. She put her hands on her hips and looked out over the Normandy, feeling a real smile tug at her lips for the first time since she had died. The Commander looked sidelong at her pilot and he grinned back at her.

"I guess we'll have to give her a name."

Both of them locked their eyes on the familiar lines of the ship as it sat patiently, expectantly, in the docking clamps. For an instant, there was silence. Then Shepard's gaze slanted sideways, and Joker tilted his head to grin at her, and the two of them moved in unison, heading unerringly for the docking ramp. She tamed her pace to Joker's off-kilter stride, feeling it would be somehow wrong to enter this new Normandy without him.

More than any others, these two had belonged to the ship. Joker was its pilot, and she was its captain.

With Joker at the helm, Shepard thought maybe she had a chance, after all.

* * *

The new Normandy was already crewed. That wasn't entirely a surprise; it couldn't have flown itself here, after all. However, as Commander Shepard conducted her first tour of the vessel, she was startled to realize just how well crewed it was.

She had a damned P.A.

Shepard took her time going over the ship, starting at the lower deck and working her way up from there. It was jarring to see the familiar, yet strangely different, interior of the Normandy. This ship was bigger, much bigger. The layout was different in a lot of ways, but the design of CIC was still so close to the old Alliance vessel that it made Shepard's heart clench in her chest to walk through it. It was hard not to remember fighting her way through it towards the bridge of the old Normandy as it shrieked and died around her. Like ghosts of the past, the memories assaulted her throughout her tour.

It was also jarring to see so many Cerberus uniforms. Everyone was polite, respectful, damn near worshipful in their reverence for the 'infamous' Commander Shepard. The Illusive Man was smart enough not to have given Shepard any raging xenophobes, at least. Everyone she spoke to seemed like rational, reasonable human beings and more than one or two had been Alliance personnel. He was manipulating her to get her to take the ship and his mission and work for him. She'd known it when she saw Joker, but stumbling across Dr Chakwas in the medical bay made it clear as daylight.

The level of his manipulation became even more blatant when she entered her private cabin.

Everything was fully stocked, from underwear to toiletries. The armor locker held Cerberus uniforms in the Alliance style she had favored. The few personal items she had kept in storage on the Citadel - items which would normally have been forwarded onto her next-of-kin, or destroyed upon her death, since she didn't have any next-of-kin - were now placed carefully around the cabin.

A framed photo of Kaidan Alenko sitting on the desk was a deliberate commentary about Cerberus' information-gathering abilities. Shepard sat down slowly in the chair before the personal terminal, refusing to surrender to the pang of loss at her lover's image. She and Kaidan had only had the one night together. Even if she hadn't died, she had no idea if they would ever had had another. To her, that night had only been a few weeks ago; for Kaidan, it had been over two years. She studied the photo regretfully, lifting a hand to lightly touch the familiar features. Even if she did know how to track him down, it would be ridiculous to think they could have a future now.

It was the small collection of hardbound books stacked neatly along the desk which broke through her careful composure.

The only hard copy books Shepard had ever owned had been the few bequeathed to her in the last will and testament of Ashley Williams. Alliance personnel were limited in the size and weight of any personal items they wanted to bring on board, so Shepard had carefully packed Ashley's books and sent them back to be stored on the Citadel. If she'd had the chance to think about it, Shepard would have assumed they, too, had been lost or destroyed upon notification of her death. Cerberus had saved them. Cerberus had planned her resurrection that long ago.

Slowly, carefully, Shepard reached out hands that trembled slightly to withdraw a leather-bound book from the middle of the stack. It was titled _'The Collected Works of William Butler Yeats_' and had the dog-eared quality of a well-loved book. With a gentle touch, Shepard opened the book and found an inscription written lovingly into the inside cover.

'_Happy Birthday, Ashley. All my love, Abby._'

Shepard stared down at the book in her hands, running her fingers along its pages. She found a thin edge of ribbon marking a place in the book and flicked numbly to the indicated page. It was a poem, clearly a favourite of Ash's, to be marked so carefully. Shepard felt an ache in the region of her heart, and dropped her eyes to the words which Ash had found so meaningful.

_Turning and turning in the widening gyre  
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;  
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;  
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,  
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere  
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;  
The best lack all conviction, while the worst  
Are full of passionate intensity._

Shepard felt numbness spread across her as she sat at her desk, Ashley's book cradled in her hands. She could not guess how long she sat like that, reading and re-reading those words. If Ash had been here, Shepard had no doubt the woman would find some way to use those words to illustrate her current situation. It wasn't a hard stretch, to be honest.

_The best lack all conviction_. And the Council had turned their back on her again, denied the Reaper threat.

_While the worst are full of passionate intensity._ And Cerberus, her enemy, held forth its open hand with support and resources and certainty.

Finding that she shared a goal with Cerberus was almost enough to make her doubt herself.

She could walk. Try to convince the Council, try to get her old team back together.

Or she could risk it, and stick with Cerberus; an organisation she already knew to be entirely untrustworthy, unethical, and incredibly dangerous.

In the end there wasn't much of a choice. Trying to do this the right, and proper, way would take too long and lose vital time they simply didn't have. Cerberus had the resources. Not just to help her fight the good fight; they were also the best chance Joker had of ever living a normal life too. He must have known that, when he joined up.

Shepard eyed the poem and resolutely closed the book, placing it reverently back in its place.

"Well, then," she stated firmly, spinning her chair and stepping lightly to her feet. She felt the steely note of command leech into her voice as she eyed the ship's AI interface, EDI. "If we're going to do this, we're going to set a few ground rules first."

Shepard lifted her right hand and accessed her omni-tool. A program she hadn't needed to use for a while ran quickly and efficiently and – unsurprisingly – bounced back with a list of listening devices implanted in her room. Shepard felt the smile curving her lips and knew that it was vaguely wicked.

"EDI. I'm afraid I'm going to have to revoke your invitation to my cabin."

If Cerberus was her only option, she'd take it.

But she was going to do this her way.


	2. Chapter 1: Omega

Omega.

It was, as Miranda so eloquently put it, a pisshole. Shepard paused by the rail overlooking the main thorough fare of the station, resting her elbows on it and feeling her jaw clench with irritation and weariness. She'd been feeling tired ever she woke up in that Cerberus base. Maybe dying was just exhausting, no matter how you did it, or whether you stayed that way. But the frustration was slowly eating away at her, that skin-twitching sensation of time slowly ticking away from her. How long did they have? And they were wasting it on wild goose chases for the hand-picked specialists that the Illusive Man claimed they '_had'_ to have. Shepard figured it would be a cold day in hell before she trusted anyone Cerberus recommended.

She had a team, a damn fine one. She'd worked hard to turn a disparate group of aliens and dubious allies into a cohesive group, earning their loyalty in blood and sweat. Them, she trusted. Shepard didn't think she had it in her to go through it all again, even if these Cerberus monkeys had any loyalty she could win.

The Commander pushed away from the rail, eyes slanting across to Miranda. The woman stared back, her face a delicate mask, eyes giving nothing away. With a sigh, Shepard turned towards the transport bay the mercs had pointed her towards. She was heading into a fire fight with enemy at her back. They'd been useful at Freedom's Progress, she'd give them that. But it still made Shepard's spine itch to turn her back on Miranda. Heading towards the transport bay, Shepard distracted herself from the long-term worries by focussing on the mission at hand. That was how she'd made it through last time. Seemed a good recipe to stick to this time around.

The transport ride to where the merc's were rendezvousing for their combined attack on the interloper, Archangel, passed in silence. Which at least gave Shepard plenty of time to prepare. The Illusive Man's dossier on this "Archangel" character had been bare bones indeed, focussing on his combat expertise, with no information on his history, allegiances or loyalties. Would he, like Tali, turn his back on them once the name Cerberus reared its ugly head? Or, as a merc, would he even give a damn if they could get him out of this tight spot and offer him a decent pay check? Commander Shepard swiftly reviewed what she had learned from Alia, neatly slicing isolated comments and bits of information together to form the basic framework of this Archangel person.

A trouble-maker, no doubt about it. And a risk taker, willing to be bold when it was unexpected. Royally pissing off all three merc groups on Omega spoke of either a brilliant master plan as yet unrevealed, or novice level stupidity. Given that he'd made it this long, Shepard was confident he wasn't a rookie.

The rumble of the transport setting down brought her into focus. Either way, she'd find out soon enough. Between Miranda, Jacob and herself (assuming they didn't shoot her in the back), they could handle pretty much anything on this base. Shepard climbed out of the transport and stepped into the face of an unexpectedly respectful invitation to go speak to Sergeant Cathka, the Blue Sun mechanic currently trying to fix a gunship for the final assault.

_A gunship? They need a gunship to take out one guy? Who the hell is he, Saren reincarnated?_ Shepard glanced thoughtfully in the direction indicated and nodded, heading out as though that were her immediate destination.

It wasn't. She preferred a great deal more intel before walking across a suicide bridge. "Commander," EDI's synthetic voice broke across her ear piece politely, and all three paused in their progress to listen to the AI's confirmation that the only way to Archangel was over that bridge.

_Great_, she thought irritably. That made it even more important to get information on what this unholy trio of merc groups had thought up together. Shepard mentally geared herself up, exchanging a quick glance with her Cerberus offsiders, readying a tough, no-nonsense attitude likely to get the best results. They set off through the staging area. Either the mercs were even more distracted than she expected (was this Archangel guy really such a problem for them?), or having a freelancer who could actually handle a gun impressed them enough to brief her on the plan of attack.

Enough, at least, to give Shepard an idea of what would be coming their way once they crossed the bridge and got to Archangel. That would be the easy part. Assuming he didn't shoot them as soon as they got there, all four of them would still have to get out again. Jacob was a bit nervous about the getting out again part of it all.

Turned out, the plan was fairly straightforward. Let the freelancers – Shepard's crew and the pack of incompetents waiting by the barricade – distract Archangel by trying to get across the corpse-ridden bridge which was the only access point to Archangel's current retreat. They were cannon fodder, to keep Archangel occupied while the mercs' infiltration team already across the bridge took out their prey. Eclipse mercs provided the first wave, and would direct their Mechs after Archangel. If they failed, the Blood Pack would make their move. And if _that_ didn't take Archangel out, the Blue Suns would move in. With their trusty gunship at their back.

_Chatty mercs are my favourite kind,_ Shepard thought with a faint grin of satisfaction as she hacked open a door in an empty corridor, smirking to find her prize. The hulking YMIR Mech, pride of the Eclipse armory, stared blindly black at her from where it rested quiescent in its cradle. Cracking her knuckles, Shepard moved to the control station linked into the mech's computer to see what mischief she could cause here. Miranda and Jacob quickly took up guard positions by the door, to keep an eye out for any passing mercs. So far they'd been too distracted by the mission at hand and their own petty in-fighting to notice anything unusual about Shepard and her team. Except that they weren't rookies, of course.

"Gotcha," Shepard muttered, her eyes gleaming gleefully when she got free access to the Friend-or-Foe system of the mech's controls. A little elegant hacking through the command protocols and they had themselves an ace in the hole. Maybe even one that could take out that gunship... Either way, it would go haywire when Eclipse sent it in, and push the odds a little more in their favour.

"Let's go," she snapped to the Cerberus duo, catching the quick glance they exchanged. Maybe they'd expected this to be a shoot-em-up and nothing more. Shepard snorted as she led the way back to Cathka and that pesky gunship. Brains counted more than all the guns in the galaxy.

Brains, a little opportunity, and a big dose of poor impulse control. Five minutes later, Shepard let the welder and Cathka – now forcibly attached to one another in a shuddering, arcing heap – drop from her grip and crash to the floor. She didn't regret taking the mechanic out, nor did she regret stabbing him in the back (literally). Shepard met Miranda's eyes briefly but said nothing, lifting her chin and leading them around the hulk of the unrepaired gunship to where the freelancers had assembled. In pretty short order, the entire merc coalition would know the score, and if that gunship was out of commission, they stood a better chance of getting out of her alive.

_Sorry Cathka_, she offered silently but Shepard found she couldn't really bring herself to care. He was a bad guy. Just another merc, standing between her and her mission. That was becoming a dangerous place to be. Shepard could feel all the reasons and justifications and protestations that kept her ruthlessness within moral boundaries beginning to slide away. There wasn't really much of a point to play by the rules when nobody else did, was there? Cerberus didn't. When even her allies didn't give a damn how she got the job done, as long as she did, was there any point in holding to obsolete and arbitrary rules of engagement?

Shepard and her team made their way to the third barrier, where the other freelancers milled about nervously. The Commander cast a knowledgeable eye over them, not overly impressed by what she saw. They were the hangers-on of Omega; the wannabes, the never-were's, and could-have-beens of the merc world. Some of them may have handled a gun before, but she'd bet her last thermal clip that none of them had ever been in a fire fight like this was going to be before. Half of them would panic, dive for cover and cower there until Archangel picked them off with his sniper rifle. The other half would make stupid mistakes - let bravado and fear push them into foolish mistakes - and either the sniper or Shepard's team, would take them out.

Shepard spared a moment to distantly regret that she would soon have to kill them all.

She gripped her assault rifle firmly, settling it into her arms with the ease of long familiarity. In peripheral vision, she saw Miranda and Jacob draw their weapons with a similar confidence... and it still puzzled her where Miranda's combat training came from... She lifted her head to peer up and over the barrier, surveying the ground they'd have to cover.

The bridge was long and narrow, littered with the corpses of freelancers who'd been corralled down there previously. There were tumbled crates and fallen mechs, bits and pieces of cover here and there for someone who knew how to use them. Her eyes slid upwards to the overhanging walkway jutting out from the building Archangel had holed himself up in. Yes, she could see the bright blue armoured figure there, crouched carefully to minimise his exposure. A perfect sniper's position. And he was good, Shepard had gathered that much. Getting past him would be more difficult than taking out the freelancers.

Then they were off.

As agreed previously, Shepard and her Cerberus offsiders held back to allow the other freelancers to funnel their way down the suicide bridge. Her scope rested frequently on the rookies ahead of her, as she dodged from cover to cover. Eyes darting upwards to where the sniper in bright blue turian armor rested comfortably. More often than not, when Shepard came close to squeezing the trigger to take out a freelancer ahead of her, she found their body jerking suddenly from sniper-fire from above.

Archangel, bringing death from above.

She grinned whimsically to herself. However, the truth was he had the superior position and their cover down here was minimal. He'd take out the rookies first, but Shepard and her crew were exposed and at risk unless they made it clear they were on his side fairly quickly. She lifted her rifle, catching a clear shot of a more-skilled-than-most freelancer ahead of her; her finger squeezed sharply on the trigger. The batarian's head exploded in a burst of gore, the body dropping heavily to the ground. It was the signal to Miranda and Jacob, who let loose with the more elegant biotic approach to the matter.

_See that, Archangel?_ Shepard thought towards the sniper in his blue armor, as she darted further along the bridge, creeping along the minimal bits of cover available. _We're on your side. Don't shoot us yet._

Maybe he heard her, or maybe their actions were peculiar enough that he just didn't know what to make of them. She could hear shouts from the mercs behind them, as chaos spread through the camp with recognition that they were allies to Archangel.

_That's right, you stupid sons of bitches. And you let us right into his camp. Doesn't it suck to be you right now?_

She took another shot at a freelancer in front of her, even as the thinning group of novices started to realize they're in a worse situation than they expected. Trapped between an expert sniper with an excellent vantage point, and a trio of skilled soldiers at their backs. The poor bastards tried to run and find cover, but some of them were still so intent on getting inside Archangel's base that they didn't pay any attention to what was behind them. Shepard took out three, in between making careful but quick progress across the bridge. Archangel seemed to be restricting his shots to the rookies – or so she thought until a very deliberate shot from above knocked out her shields.

"Hey!" The yell broke from her lips involuntarily, indignantly. Shepard snarled under her breath and made a dive for cover directly beneath the overhanging office where Archangel had taken up position. She was out of his scope at least, able to breathe a bit more carefully. That twitching back-of-the-neck shiver faded sluggishly as the Commander checked on her team. Miranda nodded once, Jacob gave her a thumbs up before letting off a blast of biotics that yanked a freelancer off his feet, and dumped him in a broken-necked tangle at the base of the stairs. Shepard spared a swift look over the area, figuring it must have been some kind of office or communal lounge before Archangel repurposed it for his own needs. It was all open plan, furnished with comfy looking couches that were now all shot to hell, utilitarian shelving and ornamental artificial plants intended to give the place some life. They were even more pathetic than usual with the plastic leaves shot full of holes.

Weapons out, Shepard and her team carefully moved through the edge of Archangel's base. A flick of her eyes showed the doors at this level were all on lockdown, keeping the mercs from getting access any way but the front door: the suicide bridge. Overhead there came another sharp bang, followed by a dull thud as Archangel's shot found its mark in another freelancer pinned down on the bridge. Miranda covered their backs, and Shepard took point, but the sharp snap of sniper fire told them Archangel hadn't moved. She'd worried that once he realized they'd made it over the bridge, he'd leave off killing newbies to come investigate.

Good. Sounded like he'd figured out they weren't here to kill him. She locked the assault rifle back into its holster and swapped it for her pistol. If he did get argumentative, she'd rather be holding a weapon less capable of slicing through his armor. It just seemed rude to come calling with a job offer in one hand and an assault rifle in the other.

So with pistol in hand and up at the ready, Shepard edged around the corner into the main office that held Archangel's vantage point for sniping the bridge. Her first clear view of him showed the blue armor reflecting dully under the flickering overhead lights. The turian appeared to be ignoring them, though she had no doubt he knew they were there. His helmeted head was turned towards the bridge below; the sniper rifle cradled carefully against his shoulder.

Shepard's eyes narrowed suddenly as Miranda and Jacob pulled up behind her.

"Archangel?" the Spectre called, gun still trained on him, but her voice held suspicion. Something about that pose, the smooth surety of motion, the confidence... the tilt of the head as the turian leaned into the scope of his rifle to take out the last freelancer on the bridge. It all rang bells in the back of her head, familiar like something she had seen countless times before. Seen out of the corner of her eye on a hundred battlefields...

The suspicion blossomed in her mind as "Archangel" dropped the butt of his rifle to the shoulder plate of his armor, pausing for a single moment before he squeezed the trigger with calm precision. Behind that helmet, she _knew_ that pause had been for a single exhalation as he sighted down the scope. The cut-off scream and distant thud of the target hitting the ground below was an unnecessary confirmation. Shepard had known he'd make the kill before he even touched the trigger; she'd seen him do it too many times in the past to doubt him now.

Without any hint of concern, the armoured turian stood back up and turned in their direction. He didn't say anything, but reached up to unclasp his helmet. Shepard felt a smirk start to tug at her lips as the knowledge solidified within her. She knew without a doubt what she would see, even before the helmet eased off to reveal familiar blue clan tattoos, and the scope over the left eye. Shepard couldn't have held back her smile to save her life.

"Archangel" dropped himself down onto an overturned crate, lazily propping one foot up on another crate and leaning casually on his rifle. The sudden feeling of release startled Shepard as she feasted her gaze on him. As though something cold and tight and hard wrapped around her chest had suddenly let go. As though she could breathe again.

"Shepard," the sniper drawled, those alien eyes meeting hers sardonically. "I thought you were dead." Oh, the voice was deadpan, but those eyes gleamed with laughter.

And that was it. The dam broke. Shepard's smile broadened into a huge grin; she felt her shoulders straighten and her muscles relax as the weight of the galaxy slid off them. The sudden sense of relief was so vivid that she threw her arms up wide in ebullience, damned close to wanting to hug him in sheer delight at seeing a friend again. Someone to trust. Sure, they were now in just as difficult a situation as he was, pinned down in this little hellhole, with three separate bands of mercs teaming up to take them down, a YMIR mech and a gunship both headed their way... but suddenly none of that mattered. Suddenly, she wasn't alone.

"Garrus!" She stepped towards him, grinning. Miranda and Jacob half-followed her, unsure what exactly was going on. "What're you doing here?"

Garrus Vakarian, former C-Sec officer and part of the team that helped her take down Saren and Sovereign, save the Citadel, the Council and the galaxy at large, looked back at her. "Just keeping my skills sharp. A little target practice," he replied with every effort at coming off the gallant hero, but his voice cracked in exhaustion, and as she moved forward and light flickered over his face, Shepard could see the weariness in him.

She frowned. "You okay?"

His mandibles twitched into a tired smile. Or what passed as such on a turian face. "Been better," he admitted, glancing down. Shepard had a feeling that was an admission that wouldn't have come to just anyone. "Killing mercs is hard work, especially on my own." Garrus looked back up, glanced over Miranda and Jacob and locked his gaze onto her gratefully. "Sure is good to see a friendly face."

At that, she grinned again. Back in the old days, she and Garrus had never been all that close. She'd been too focussed on the mission, and her brief periods of downtime had been spent with Alenko. But he'd been with her, on too many missions to count. He'd held her life in his hands, and she'd held his. They'd been allies, friends. There had always been something about him, something solid and dependable. He had always been her rock, steady in the heat of battle, sure in his sense of rightness. Loyal.

That was it. Loyal. Shepard looked at him intently, feeling his words resonate through her. Yeah. It sure was good to see a friendly face again. For the first time since waking up in Miranda's lab, Shepard felt hopeful about the future. If she could have Garrus at her back, she wouldn't have to worry about Cerberus turning on her; she'd know she had someone to cover her. The Commander let the tension ease from her body and nodded once, to herself. If she could get Garrus to look past the Cerberus thing and join up, just maybe they could make this thing work. But first, they'd have to get out of here.

"What are you doing on Omega, anyway?" First things first. Get the intel.

Behind the scope eyepiece, his eyes flashed with humor as he recognised her familiar down-to-business tone. Recognised and appreciated it, from the way he nodded back. "I got fed up with all the bureaucratic crap on the Citadel. Figured I could do more good on my own. At least it's not hard to find criminals here. All I have to do is point my gun and shoot."

Well, that was a bit... unexpected. Garrus had always seemed such a stickler for the rules, by-the-book, all the time, every time. Shepard eyed him curiously, the smirk still dancing about her mouth. "Since when did you start calling yourself Archangel?"

The damn turian actually managed to look embarrassed. Dipping his head wryly to hide the amused twitch of his mandibles. "It's just a name the locals gave me. For all of my good deeds" He coughed in embarrassment, but met her gaze with one that danced with humor. "I don't mind it, but please... It's just 'Garrus' to you."

"How'd you manage to piss off every major merc organisation in the Terminus systems?" she threw back at him, with the barest hint of laughter edging her voice.

"It wasn't easy!" Garrus admitted. Something in his voice, laughter or self-mockery, spoke of the changes the last two years had wrought in him. "I _really_ had to work at it. I am amazed that they teamed up to fight me though. They must really hate me."

Hate him enough to work together, pool their funds to pay for freelancers, share their equipment and resources... Yeah, Garrus had always been good at pissing people off, and never one to step down in the face of a fight.

Shepard shook her head in amazement. "You nailed me good a couple times, by the way," she admitted, wondering what he'd been thinking when he saw her show up.

Garrus grinned back at her, not even trying to sound apologetic. "Concussive rounds only. No harm done. Didn't want the mercs getting suspicious."

She smirked. "Uh-huh.' The ones behind her, anyway.

"If I'd wanted to do more than take your shields down, I'd have done it," Garrus drawled back at her, the tilt of his head bringing the scope over his left eye into the light. A quick reminder that he'd had her in his scopes. Seen the Cerberus insignia. And trusted her enough to let her approach. His mandibles shifted into that turian smile again as he straightened and changed the subject. "Besides, you were taking your sweet time. I needed to get you moving."

"Well, we got here," Shepard acknowledged, letting the topic slide. If he came with them, time enough to get into it later. "But I don't think getting out will be as easy."

Garrus sighed, and reached for his rifle. "No, it won't. That bridge has saved my life, funnelling all those witless idiots into scope." He stood and gestured for her to join him at the walkway that overlooked the bridge. "But... it works both ways. They'll slaughter us if we try to get out that way."

Shepard surveyed the bridge from this vantage point. He'd done well for himself, even after the unfortunate mistake of getting pinned down here. Locking down all access points except this one kept him safer than locking himself behind solid iridium walls. The height, the angle, was perfect. From up here, Shepard could see how he'd managed to get those shots off that had taken down her shields. Even the overturned crates didn't provide sufficient cover from his position. But he was right. Her gaze slid down the length of the littered bridge and to the barricade formed by the mercs at the other end. They had a position that was maybe not as perfect... but they had the numbers to make up for it. Any progress down that bridge would see their brains splattered all over it in under a minute.

"We can't just sit here and wait for them to come to us," Jacob intervened from over her shoulder.

Garrus eyed him carefully. "It's not all that bad. This place has held them off so far... And with the three of you..." He turned to look at them fully, resting his attention on Shepard. He knew who was in charge. "I suggest we hold this location, wait for a crack in their defences and take our chances. It's not a perfect plan. But it's a plan."

She considered their options quickly, acknowledging the point he made. They didn't have forever to wait here, and take the mercs out at their leisure. Garrus had held them off for a day already. Shepard didn't want to still be here this time tomorrow. "How'd you let yourself get into this position?" she asked.

"My feelings got in the way of my better judgement," Garrus answered flatly, and she looked at him in surprise. He looked back at her, uncomfortable, awkward, annoyed.. but somehow still challenging. "It's a long story. I'll make you a deal. You get me out of here alive, and I'll tell you the whole damned thing."

She didn't hesitate for a second. He was willing to put himself in her hands again, to trust her even showing up with Cerberus. That light-hearted feeling was still bouncing about in her chest like the Mako over the mountains of a low-grav world, and Shepard let herself enjoy it. For the moment, with Garrus at her side, she figured she could take on the entire Omega station and still have time for a quick drink.

Shepard grinned up at her tall, armoured turian friend. "I didn't like sneakin' anyway. Time to spill a little merc blood."

The answering smile, the vicious gleam echoing back at her from Garrus' eyes, was all the reward she needed. "Glad to see you haven't changed. Let's see what they're up to..."

He turned towards the bridge again, lifting his rifle up to peer through the scope. "Hmm. Looks like they know their infiltration team failed... Take a look." Garrus handed her the weapon and she took it easily, hefting it to her shoulder and glancing down the line of the scope. This was the same old rifle, but he'd upgraded the scope. "Scouts. Eclipse, I think."

Shepard studied the three figures cautiously creeping over the barricade at the far end of the bridge and shook her head, handing the rifle back. "That looks like a lot more than scouts." LOKI Mechs, she'd recognise them anywhere.

Garrus grimaced. "Indeed. We better get ready. I'll stay up here. I can do a lot of damage from this vantage point." Well, no question there. He'd held off three merc teams and countless freelancers for an entire day. "You.." The turian turned to look over at her warmly, his low, lazy drawl threading with affection. "You can do what you do best. Just like old times, Shepard!"

With a quick grin, Shepard spun to give directions to Miranda and Jacob to cover the other approaches. Hell, she thought to herself, even as she ducked and clambered over crates to get to a better position. Maybe she'd been too hard on those two. They'd had her back so far, they'd followed orders. Jacob had even admitted he didn't fully trust Cerberus. If she'd managed to turn a dedicated C-Sec officer into a loyal ally willing to help her steal a ship under Citadel lockdown, surely she could win Miranda and Jacob to her side too. And in the meantime, they'd help her get Garrus out of here.

"Let's give these bastards everything we've got," Garrus snarled into his scope as Miranda opened fire to the left on the Mechs. Shepard exhaled down the length of her gun, grinned to herself, and squeezed the trigger. Yeah. She was going to enjoy this.

The fight was short, nasty, and bloody. Well, bloody for the Eclipse. Say what you like about Cerberus, they trained their people well, and outfitted them with expensive equipment. Shepard's team had advanced skills, and superior firepower. Miranda's biotics and their firepower took down the mech's and the subsequent wave of Eclipse troopers without any of their crew taking a shot. Shepard was just starting to feel cautiously optimistic about their chances of getting out before dinner when the Eclipse merc boss pulled out the big guns.

The YMIR Mech was lowered into place at the edge of the bridge, and Shepard caught Garrus' worried comment. "Don't worry," she muttered back at him. "That problem should take care of itself."

So what if she sounded smug? Garrus gave her that familiar exasperated look for it, and then turned back to watch the show.

Her subversive hacking of the mech's friend-or-foe identification system was paying off in spades now. Shepard threw the turian a triumphant grin as it immediately turned on the Eclipse troopers. She could only imagine the recriminations and chaos in the base behind it, as the Blue Sun and Blood Pack leaders railed futilely at the destruction. The YMIR Mech took out most of the Eclipse troops until one of them got in a lucky shot that shut it down. Either way, the Eclipse soldiers were decimated, forcing their boss Jaroth to take to the field.

At that point, Shepard moved from the top level, a nod to Jacob bringing him with her. Above, Miranda with her biotics, and Garrus with his rifle, kept taking out the surviving Eclipse mercs. Jaroth was canny, he used the cover well. In that calm, controlled part of her brain that stayed focused no matter how hot the battle, Shepard was carefully analysing the interplay of her people.

She had been too hard on Miranda and Jacob, had let her personal hatred of Cerberus distort her opinion of them. They were good soldiers, good fighters. They knew how to play with others. She watched Miranda warp the space around Jaroth, knocking him to the ground, just far enough out of cover for Garrus to get a clear shot. Jaroth's brains exploded across the walkway a moment later. She heard Garrus' familiar war cry from above and grinned. Looked like they'd have a moment's peace while the mercs regrouped, and the Blood Pack prepared to move in. A quick nod to Jacob and they were both moving back upstairs to rejoin Miranda and Garrus.

"You're kicking ass, Shepard," he greeted her gleefully. "They barely touched me. And I got Jaroth! I've been hunting that little bastard for months."

"Why were you after him?" she asked, dropping her rifle to a conveniently close crate. She listened to Garrus explain about Jaroth's involvement in shipping tainted goods, as she carefully readjusted her armor. This new gear tended to shift a little during combat, she'd have to do some work on it when she got back to the Normandy. Absently, the Spectre held back a grin at Garrus' intense explanation. He was still the same old Garrus. Loyal, yes. Maybe not such a stickler for the rule book anymore, but he was still clinging to his own moral code of right and wrong. He just didn't have the limits of C-Sec or the Alliance to keep him in check anymore.

And neither did she. Shepard hesitated as she straightened up. That was the change she'd been grappling with. Without the Alliance, and without her former team, she didn't have anyone to provide moral guidelines on how to grapple the Reaper threat. Even as a Spectre, she'd known there would be consequences if she acted outside of broad Alliance expectations. Now she had Cerberus, an organisation known for its total lack of ethics. She had nothing to rely on... except herself.

Herself, and Garrus. If he stayed.

The wrenching of metal and the sharp crack of explosions interrupted her thoughts and Garrus' explanation. All four of them turned in the direction of the sound and she heard Garrus swear as he realized the mercs were breaking through the lower levels.

"You'd better get down there Shepard," Garrus said apologetically. "I'll keep the bridge clear."

True enough. Nobody else was as good a shot. But there was still an entire merc band across that bridge, and he'd been awake for at least twenty four hours. She wasn't leaving him to face that on his own. "Let's split up, two and two. Keep one of my team here," Shepard replied.

"You sure? Who knows what you'll find down there," Garrus reminded her, but she could see the weariness in him, the stress and tension of the experience was wearing him down. She nodded firmly, gesturing over her shoulder to Jacob.

"Jacob. Stay with Garrus. Keep him alive." It wasn't a request. The steel in her voice made it a command that suggested dire consequences if Jacob failed. Shepard caught the alacrity with which Jacob obeyed, moving to stand beside Garrus, and approved whole-heartedly.

Why Jacob and not Miranda? Miranda may have the superior biotics, but Shepard trusted Jacob more. He'd been Alliance, once. Miranda might risk herself to save Shepard, the work of two years of her life... but Shepard couldn't believe she'd do the same to save Garrus.

Garrus met her eyes briefly and nodded to her in gratitude. "Thanks Shepard. You better get going."

Nothing further needed to be said. Shepard led Miranda down to the basement where the mercs were breaking through. Led her down into a vicious fight against krogan and vorcha Blood Pack mercs, complete with varren hounds. It was a savage struggle to take them out. Two biotics with superior firepower were fairly evenly matched against half of a mercenary band. Shepard was still snarling from the savage burn she'd taken from one of the pyros when she managed to get the final shutter sealed against the intruders. The medi-gel was doing its job far too damned slowly, in her opinion. Shepard limped back to Miranda, eying the woman carefully. Miranda looked as rumpled as she felt, her white suit stained with soot and blood and gore, her dark hair tangled with blowback and grime.

"Not bad, Shepard," the Cerberus woman drawled at her, adding in a wink for good measure. "Let's get back to the others before they have all the fun, hmm?"

Shepard gave a short bark of unexpected laughter, and gestured for Miranda to lead the way back upstairs. No, Miranda wasn't fully claimed by Cerberus. More and more, she was getting hints that there was a doorway to this woman's loyalty. She didn't want to have to rely on Miranda's reluctance to see all her good work destroyed in Shepard's death. She wanted to earn and hold Miranda's allegiance. And Jacob's. She would need to trust the people she took into Hell with her.

They rounded the corner into the main forum of the lower level just as Shepard heard Garrus' voice over the radio calling for help. With a sudden jerk, she leapt into a run, taking the steps two or three at a time and almost skidding across wet blood as she reached the top of the staircase. The low grunts of pain over the radio were undeniably Garrus'... even in pain, she could identify the flanging quality of a turian voice... and she spared a moment's white-hot rage to wonder what the hell Jacob was doing while the Blood Pack used Garrus as their own private punching bag.

With Miranda right at her heels, Shepard slammed into the top office to find Garm – that particularly unpleasant krogan who headed up the Blood Pack on Omega – slamming his meaty fist directly into Garrus' face. And of course, the damn turian hadn't put his helmet back on, so there was a spray of blood.

Her rifle was in her hand again, even as she spotted Jacob painfully dragging himself to his feet. Ahh. Well, at least he'd been taken down, rather than failed through incompetence. Shepard didn't bother with her gun. Her blood was running hot, and she slammed her hand, palm-out, towards the krogan attacking her team-mate. The liquid heat of biotic energy burst out from her, slamming violently into the krogan.

Garm staggered off-balance, not quite falling, but before he had managed to right himself, Jacob made his move. She watched the dark-skinned man snarl, his fist clenching as he reached out with biotic force to pull the krogan towards him. Already off-balance, Garm had no resistance to the sudden pull of gravity towards Jacob, and he was flung mid-air. Miranda didn't hesitate, but lifted a delicate hand to expel a shattering burst of warp energy against the floating, bleeding krogan. His low, gurgling groans of pain filled the room as the three of them tossed him about like a rag doll with their biotics. When he finally crashed to the ground, it was with savage force that saw him sliding to land almost directly at Shepard's feet.

Now, she lowered her gun, aiming it down at the exposed meaty forehead of the krogan merc boss. Shepard could feel the savagery of her smile, the tightness of her anger, as she squeezed the trigger deliberately into the centre of his head. A sharp jerk of that huge body and he was still, a last gasp of breath escaping futilely.

"Shepard," Jacob called urgently, already looking towards Garrus. He was getting to his feet by the time she made it over there, yanking out medi-gel. Garrus waved her away, coughing a bit as he straightened. In the face of her tight anxiety, he managed a credible smile, and nod.

"Tough bastards, but I've seen worse," he assures her. "And we took out Garm and his Blood Pack. This day just gets better and better. He was one tough son of a bitch."

His voice sounded clear, low-pitched and smooth as always, without any rattle or gurgle to indicate internal injuries he might not be eager to discuss. Shepard nodded back at him in acceptance, but slapped the medi-gel on anyway. He'd hold together until they got back to the Normandy, but they weren't out of this by a long shot. "You've fought with him before?"

Garrus snorted. "Yeah, we tangled once. I caught him alone... none of his gang to help him. I still couldn't take him out. I've never seen a krogan regen that fast. He was a freak of nature. We just kept at it until his vorcha showed up. It was close but..." Garrus shrugged, looking over at the dead krogan's body. "I had to let him go. Not this time."

"Only the Blue Suns are left now," she reminded him. Two out of three ain't bad, but even one merc group could take them out if they were lucky enough. "I say we take our chances and fight our way out."

"I think you're right. Tarak's got the toughest group, but nothing we haven't faced before." Garrus was thinking it over; she knew that face. The face that said he was reviewing strategy, tactics. He was right... they'd faced Saren, Sovereign, geth, Cerberus itself... a rag-tag bunch of mercs at the ass-end of the galaxy shouldn't prove too difficult for them. They'd made it this far without serious injury. "Besides, he won't be expecting us to meet him head on. He –"

Movement in the corner of their vision stopped Garrus, and both he and Shepard swung in that direction. A low, rumbling throb of sound filled the silence, and in her peripheral vision, Shepard saw Miranda tense and Jacob grip his rifle tighter.

Then the dark, oily-black bulk of the gunship rose in ominous silence over the edge of the walkway, shrouding them in its shadow and stealing any words they might have had except "oh fuck" and "get behind cover!" An unnecessary reminder, as it turned out, because they were all diving for cover simultaneously as the gunship opened fire.

"Dammit," Garrus yelled in frustration, "I thought I took that thing out already!"

_Yeah, so did I,_ Shepard thought in irritation. It looked like Cathka had managed to get the thing working before she shoved a welder in his spine.

_No time to bitch about it now_, Shepard decided... especially not when Garrus took a heroic leap towards cover just as the gunship opened fire. Her stomach dropped sickeningly as she saw him jerk back under the gunfire, a sudden swooping sensation like being in low-grav. All that pretty turian armor wasn't going to save him if he didn't get out of the line of fire.

"Garrus!" His name was a scream, raking down her throat as she threw herself behind cover. Shepard frantically scanned the area, trying to get closer to him. Miranda and Jacob were firing – at the gunship, or the Blue Sun troops creeping into the base already – but Shepard only had eyes for her downed team-mate. She didn't leave people behind – ever.

_Get to cover, get to cover_... she urged him silently, as the gunship hovered back into position to fire again. And slowly, amazingly, he did... Rolling awkwardly onto his side and crawling the bare meter to drag himself behind a crate, he pulled himself into a half-sitting position. His head turned, the somehow undamaged-scope flinging back reflected light at her, making him look half-blind. Blood was oozing from his face, his armor was a smoking ruin, but incredibly he winked at her. The unhindered eye dropped deliberately into a wink and then closed in exhaustion. She watched a moment longer to see his breathing steady, but fast... He was alive, but he didn't have much time. Shepard's head snapped up to review the situation. She didn't like what she saw.

Pinned down by a freaking gunship, one man down, with mercs creeping up on their asses. Well, she could never say life was boring with Garrus around. Shepard narrowly avoided getting her head shot off as she stretched up and fired off a shot, taking out a Blue Sun merc. The important question was that damn gunship, and how to take it down. Cathka had been clear it wasn't really ready yet, he still had work to do. That should make it pretty easy to take out... _If_ she could get a clear shot at it.

She left the mercs to Miranda and Jacob. If nothing else, seeing them in action here – willing to fight and risk their lives to protect Garrus as well as herself – had eased the virulent mistrust she'd felt towards the Cerberus operatives. She knew they'd take care of the Blue Suns, which left the gunship to her. Grimly, Shepard holstered her pistol – useless against something that size – and dragged out the grenade launcher. It was the heaviest weapon she had on her, and if that didn't take the monstrosity down, they were all ... well... fucked.

The next few minutes were chaos, with her heart pounding in her ears and blood thrumming wildly through her veins. The grenade launcher was steady in her grip though, and she waited deliberately for Jacob or Miranda's quiet "go for it, Shepard," or "now, Commander" to know when she had coverage from their side to take her shots. The gunship hung conveniently in front of her – close enough for her to see straight through the plasglass viewport to the mercs piloting it. Her first grenade launched like a missile, impacting on the nose of the gunship. It dropped from the impact, but her momentary burst of triumph faltered as the pilot righted the damn thing. Surface damage only. Gritting her teeth, Shepard settled more firmly in place, locking the launcher comfortably against her shoulder and took her time. She only had a few grenades left, no sense wasting them on poorly timed shots.

So she waited. Hearing Garrus' laboured breathing through breaks in gunfire, catching the blue-fire pulse of Miranda's biotics as she took out a small cluster of Blue Sun mercs. She waited. She waited until she could see the whites of the pilot's eyes, if vorcha could be said to have them. Her lips curled into a primal snarl as she clenched the trigger of the launcher. She knew – from the solid thud of the recoil, from the sweet whistle of the grenade as it launched – that it would be on target. Exultantly, Shepard watched it splinter the plasglass view plate and embed halfway into the pilot's torso. The gunship jerked back out of control, and a heartbeat later, the grenade exploded. Gunship debris fell like hot metallic rain across the bridge, and Shepard let out a soft snarl of satisfaction.

"Garrus!" Even as Miranda was still mopping up the last of the mercs, Shepard had leaped out of cover towards the prone turian, kneeling anxiously at his side. She rolled him carefully onto his back. In doing so, the splintered, charred edge of his armor was revealed, as well as the terrible mess his face was in. She dreaded to think what state the rest of him was in. There was stillness, a terrible stillness that froze her heart. The scope over his eye still flashed with readouts, but his eyes were closed, his chest still, his skin... Shepard felt panic start to tug at her, when Garrus managed a single, gurgling inhalation that spoke of terrible internal damage.

"Garrus!" she gasped, leaning quickly over him so he could see her without moving. "We're gettin' out of here, Garrus. Just hold on," she assured him as he forced his eyes open to look at her.

"Radio Joker, make sure they're ready for us," she snapped at Jacob, her eyes fixed on the wounded turian. Garrus wouldn't have much time; she knew that, even as she was pumping him full of medi-gel.

Miranda and Jacob stood as silent shadows, guarding them both as Shepard watched carefully for the medi-gel to take effect. She could track its progress in the relief on Garrus' ruined face, the steadier breathing, as well as the readouts on her omni-tool. She shot a quick look to Jacob, whose doubts about Garrus' likely survival were written all over his face. Her eyes sharpened to any icy point, and whatever Jacob saw in her face had him hopping to like a first year cadet, reaching down under the turian's shoulder as she did, to help lever him up and onto his feet.

The medi-gel kept him breathing, but nothing more. Each gurgling, liquid gasp from her friend was right in her ear, as Shepard and Jacob frog-marched him down that damn bridge and laid him out in the nearest sky car. Miranda had her pistol out, her free hand glowing with the cerulean flash of biotic energy but there was nobody left to challenge them. Shepard barely noticed. All she could hear was Garrus' laboured breathing, the half-heard grunts and moans of pain as Jacob flew them directly back to the Normandy. Shepard was in the back seat, crouched over the prone turian figure, pumping more medi-gel into him anytime he twitched. It wasn't enough, but it was all she had to keep him breathing until they made it back to the dock.

Doctor Chakwas was waiting in the airlock with a stretcher, and her calm efficiency was a balm to Shepard's fractured nerves. If the Doc was surprised to see an old crew-member half-dead on the deck, she didn't say anything. It wasn't her way. She just got him up onto the stretcher, pumping more drugs into him and doing... well, whatever it was she did. But when Shepard tried to follow her into the elevator down to med-bay, Chakwas levelled a stare at her that was almost command-level intimidation.

"Jacob has medical training, he can assist me. I'll call you as soon as he's out of surgery," she informed the Commander and shut the elevator door in her face.

Shepard stared dumbly at the elevator door, watching the little light over the control panel flick sedately down the levels until it confirmed the elevator had opened at the crew level. A few more seconds, and she knew Garrus would be in the med-bay, with the best doctor this side of the galactic core to take care of him. Shepard shook her head and looked up. Jacob was gone. When she spared a glance around her, Miranda was still there, watching. Studying. Whatever she'd been thinking, it wasn't visible from the composed gaze the Cerberus operative levelled at her.

"Doctor Chakwas has things well in hand," Miranda remarked calmly. "This seems like a good time for us all to get cleaned up and debrief." Whatever she saw on the Commander's face prompted Miranda to smile slightly, lifting her hands in a peace gesture. "I didn't know he was your former crew-mate, Commander. Nor did the Illusive Man. All information we had on Garrus Vakarian said that he had dropped off the radar after leaving the Citadel. _Nobody_ knew who Archangel really was."

Shepard grunted dubiously.

"As you should know, Commander, Garrus is a very competent individual. If he chose to disappear, is it really so surprising that he should accomplish his goals?" Miranda levelled a composed gaze at her, daring her to contradict that statement. In all honesty, Shepard couldn't argue that. Of all her former crew, Garrus was most likely to know how to circumvent security systems, after his work in C-Sec. Shepard dropped the issue, shaking her head at the other woman.

"Forget it. You're right. Clean up, then we'll debrief in four hours. Tell Jacob."

* * *

By the time they convened in the briefing room, Doctor Chakwas had contacted her with good news. Not only was Garrus going to make it, but he'd come through surgery well and should recover quickly.

"There's been some damage," Chakwas warned her, holding up a cautioning hand. "There's not much I can do about that. But turian armour is well designed to segment damaged sections of the body and provide emergency medical treatment in the field. If not for that, he'd have been dead before you got him to the Normandy. The armour itself may have suffered a few cosmetic damages, but it's still basically intact in that regard. If you're going to throw him in the way of gunships in the future, perhaps it's best he continue using it?" the Doctor suggested with acerbic sweetness, and signed off with a promise to have Jacob provide details shortly.

Shepard didn't much care about the attitude. Garrus was going to pull through. She grinned at the news, and finally let herself look at the other issues raised in the mission.

The debrief was thorough, conveying the details of the mission to the Illusive Man, along with the potential benefits of information and a few curious pieces of tech they'd swiped on station. The Illusive Man confirmed Miranda's assessment, reassuring Shepard that he hadn't had any idea of the link between Archangel and Garrus Vakarian. Unfortunately, his too-smooth delivery only sharpened her suspicions rather than soothing them. Which was probably for the best, all things considered.

As the briefing concluded, Shepard gestured surreptitiously to Jacob to remain. "Give me the full rundown on Garrus' condition," she demanded, crossing her arms. He sighed quietly.

"Commander, we've done what we could for Garrus," he answered her gently. "But he took a bad hit. The Doc's corrected with surgical procedures, and some cybernetics. Best we can tell..." He shrugged. "He'll have full functionality, but..."

The low hiss of the door opening drew both their gazes to it immediately, and Shepard straightened in surprise to see the turian in question saunter through. Well, perhaps not his usual saunter. There was a definite limp to it, and his movements were slow, almost jerky with precision.

"Shepard," Garrus greeted her.

His face was a mess, but she'd expected that. He was, indeed, still in his armor, which was dented and charred, with a massive chunk out over his right collarbone neckpiece that made her want to flinch. For all of that though... Shepard couldn't help the proud smirk that grew on her lips as she studied him. Beside her, Jacob gave an amazed laugh.

"Tough son of a bitch," he muttered in admiration. "Didn't think you'd be up yet."

Garrus gave him an amused look and limped fully into the briefing room. His eyes slid over Jacob and dropped firmly onto his Commander. He watched her intently for a moment. "Nobody would give me a mirror," he complained. "How bad is it?"

Shepard felt the smirk grow until she was grinning – with pride, and amusement, and sheer relief at his survival. She let herself look at him, seeing the healing wounds and grafts that would leave terrible scars, knowing that worse lay beneath the armor. What to say? For all his toughness, Garrus had always held a streak of vulnerability that at times perplexed and amazed her. She'd never been in a position to provide any kind of reassurance to him before, and now that she was, she found herself reluctant to address the issue directly.

"Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly," she threw back affectionately, letting a ripple of laughter enter her voice. "Slap some face paint on there and nobody will notice."

She surprised a short bark of laughter out of him; laughter that turned all too quickly into a low groan of pain, as he raised his hand instinctively to his damaged right mandible. "Ugh, don't make me laugh. Dammit... My face is barely holding together as it is."

But that face, turned towards her, was still familiar even with the new scarring, and she could hardly restrain herself from basking in that very familiarity. The sense of coming-home that had startled her on Omega now blossomed fully inside Shepard, and she grinned back at him. It sparked an impish gleam into his eyes, which frankly shocked the hell out of her.

Whatever Garrus had been in the past, he'd never had much of a sense of humour.

"Some women find facial scars attractive," he remarked suggestively, his smooth voice dropping even lower as he looked over at her. Shepard blinked in surprise, staring back at him blankly, and the turian glanced away. "Mind you, most of those women are krogan."

With a shake of her head, Shepard let it pass. Poor guy was probably still groggy from the drugs Chakwas fed him. Or Omega had turned the incorruptible Officer Vakarian into a flirt.

With an awkward throat-clearing cough, Jacob saluted and retreated. Shepard and Garrus both watched him leave, Shepard waiting until she felt her friend's eyes resting on her again before she met them. She'd had her debriefing with the Cerberus crew, with the Illusive Man himself. Now it was time for Garrus. She gave a slight nod of understanding, and saw him relax a little at the tacit permission to speak his mind. When he spoke, the teasing humour was all gone, and it was the Garrus she knew again.

"Frankly, I'm more worried about you," he began cautiously, as if unsure of her reaction. "Cerberus, Shepard? You remember those sick experiments they were doing?"

She didn't turn away, didn't evade the responsibility of this moment. Shepard met his gaze head-on, straightening her shoulders. This moment had been inevitable. Tali hadn't even let herself come this far, before she raised the Cerberus issue. She could feel a pit of worry at the base of her stomach, wondering if this was the beginning of the "thanks, but no thanks" speech that Tali had already given her. She'd saved his ass on Omega. Would it be enough? Would he trust her, as Tali couldn't?

"That's why I'm glad you're here, Garrus," she answered honestly, and without hesitation. Holding back wouldn't help her here. She let him see how much this meant to her, let him see her worry and her isolation amidst this crew. "I'm walking into Hell here. I want someone I trust by my side."

There wasn't even a moment's pause. "You realize this plan has me walking into Hell too, right? Just like old times."

There weren't words to describe the rush of relief and... more, something potent but impossible to decipher... at that instantaneous support, his unquestioning trust. Garrus watched her warmly, and all the things they didn't need to say hung heavy in the air between them. She hadn't said anything about the Collectors, the Reapers, or why she was with Cerberus. She hadn't needed to.

Garrus trusted her. Trusted her ethics, and her decisions. And that trust was enough for him to sign up on her crew again.

Tali had turned her back on Shepard, even knowing how important the mission was... but now, Shepard could see that was just Tali's choice. It didn't make her own decisions or actions inherently wrong, or evil. Working with Cerberus was – just as she'd known from the start – a risky and unwelcome necessity, but the bigger goal was more important. Garrus didn't even know what it was. He didn't ask.

That silent and steadfast loyalty was like the warmth of a real wood fire on a cold night, in those old days back on Mindoir. It warmed her soul, and soothed the long hours of self-doubt, sharp questioning, and anxiety about her choices. It took it all away in one sudden, unexpected instant. And at the same time, it gave Shepard back that certainty about her path.

She could never tell him, never explain, just what he'd done for her. She'd saved his ass. He'd repaid the favor by saving her from the kind of self-doubt that would get her killed through uncertainty, and giving her someone she could trust to have her back.

But maybe she didn't need to tell him. Garrus was still watching her, and his uninjured mandible twitched into a quiet smile.

"I'll settle in, see what I can do with the forward batteries," he promised her quietly, and she really shouldn't be surprised that he went straight for the big guns. That was just Garrus all over.

She was still smiling when he left her alone in the briefing room, feeling the weight of the galaxy slowly falling off her shoulders.

Damn, but it was glad to have a friend again.


	3. Chapter 2: A Strong Ghost

Garrus wasn't entirely sure it was a good sign that he was seeing the inside of the Normandy's medical bay for the second time in his first forty-eight hours onboard. His first visit hadn't been particularly informative of the changes to the new medical bay, given that he'd been unconscious for most of it. Now, having concluded the unexpectedly thorough medical examination Chakwas had insisted on performing on his return from Omega's plague zone, Garrus took the chance to peer about him curiously. This room was a lot larger than the first Normandy's medical bay had been, to start with. And rather better provisioned, he thought as he ran a careful eye over the shiny new equipment. It seemed having the deep pockets of a human-centric terrorist group to provide funding resulted in a first-class medical centre. Somehow, he doubted its provisions ran to non-human medical issues though.

The turian leaned an armoured hip back against the examining table and crossed his arms as he studied the two squabbling doctors in front of him. Dr Solus had accompanied him in here, loudly protesting the second examination; he had cured the plague already from his clinic on Omega.

Of course, if Dr. Chakwas got her way – and he'd come to respect the determined human in his time onboard the original Normandy – then Garrus rather suspected the room would be upgraded to cater to any species they happened to recruit. The woman was ferocious, professional, and as stubborn as Shepard could be when it came to getting what she wanted. Garrus had learned to respect human doctors after he first encountered Dr Michel on the Citadel, but even she didn't hold a patch on Chakwas. And right now, the grey-haired doctor was in full swing, levelling a vociferous and inexplicably hostile diatribe at the bemused salarian, for his apparent neglect and endangerment of Garrus by not immediately having him sequestered for recovery once he was diagnosed with the plague on Omega. Confronted with such a blazing accusation, Solus was in hyperactive denial, arms waving, pacing about the room.

It was a spectacle Garrus was thoroughly enjoying, his left mandible shifting in amusement and bringing a slight rush of pain to his right as it tried to match the movement. He exhaled sharply, again reminding himself that medi-gel and painkillers alone didn't constitute real healing. Garrus had known the salarian by reputation only in his time on the station, and had caught the early rumours of his involvement in curing the plague before he and his team had been pinned down. Mordin Solus had the reputation of being highly strung, erratic, unpredictable, and bizarrely dangerous. Watching him almost bounce about the med bay in his argument with Chakwas, and recalling the good doctor's behaviour in the plague sector on Omega, Garrus concluded his reputation was a reasonable one.

"No, no! Needed to protect the team to ensure successful conclusion of mission, and rescue assistant. Had cured turian by then, anyway." Solus paused, inhaling sharply as his speeding thoughts were tripped up by his need to breathe. He fixed his gaze on Chakwas, his indignation over her accusations clear. "No need to monitor, cure 100% successful on all turian plague victims. Confirmed results. Bigger mission at hand, priorities."

Chakwas opened her mouth to retaliate, and Garrus decided it was time to intervene, if he wanted out of here anytime soon.

"Doctor..." He paused as both turned agitated eyes on him for his interruption, and Garrus hesitated, then turned his tone to a more soothing one. "Doctors. There's no need for concern. As you can see, Dr Solus' treatment was successful, and the plague has been cured." The turian stopped, suddenly, eying them both in alarm. "It _has_ been cured, hasn't it?"

Chakwas made a dismissive gesture, shrugging off his moment of anxiety. "Yes, yes. You're fine, clean bill of health Garrus. Well, except for..." Another almost embarrassed gesture to his face, and Chakwas ducked her head awkwardly

The turian nodded firmly. "Fine, then. Dr Solus is correct, our mission was the priority. I knew when I walked into the plague zone that there was a good chance I would contract the disease. I trusted Dr Solus' reputation, and Commander Shepard's threat assessment of the situation. And as it turns out..." Garrus lifted his hands, offering his most charming expression for Dr Chakwas, as he began backing away from the two agitated doctors. "...they were both correct. I'm fine, and if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to the main battery. I have some calibrations to check up on."

His hands touched the door behind him and triggered the switch, letting it open with a swish. With a final nod to the two, Garrus spun and stepped out, letting the door slide closed on their immediately renewed 'ethical debate.' He shook his head, feeling a laugh rumble through his throat.

"Those two still at it?"

The familiar voice dragged his head up sharply and he found Shepard waiting in front of him, arms crossed and studying him in concern.

"Mm. I don't think it will end until Mordin tells her you've given him his own lab, and she won't have to share a room with him," Garrus answered, stepping away from the door. He was happy enough to leave the two doctors to battle out their totally unnecessary fight for professional dominance.

Shepard was shaking her head, but he could read the amusement in the tilt of her shoulders and the angle of her head. "Doctor Chakwas didn't have any other medical staff on the old Normandy. I'd think she'd be happy to have the help. If this is anything like last time around, we're going to need all the medical expertise we can get to keep us running until the end."

There was a shadow in her voice; just the tiniest hint of something that anyone who didn't know her might have disregarded. But Garrus had been around her too long; what had started as pure combat awareness had extended past the battlefield, and he could read the underlying concern.

"I'm a lot more confident now that I've had a look over the new Normandy," Garrus replied firmly, then let his uninjured mandible flick upwards into a smirk. "If only for the fact that we have separate bathrooms this time around. That unisex arrangement on the old Normandy was hard to bear. I don't think Liara ever recovered from walking in on Wrex in the communal shower."

He startled a laugh out of her, and counted it a win. Shepard was shaking her head at him, those bright eyes a little bemused but the shadow was gone from them. "How are you feeling? No more sniffles?"

Garrus waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm fine. I have two bills of clean health. I wasn't in there long enough for it to do more than give me a headache."

That wasn't entirely true. By the time they'd hit Solus' clinic, Garrus had felt like varren shit. He'd been drowning in sweat inside his armor, his fever was so high. The 'headache' had been a pounding migraine like a knife stabbing directly into each eye socket, and the rapid burst of gunfire had been pure aural torture.

Another person might have apologised for taking him into the plague zone to begin with. Garrus was relieved that Shepard didn't. He'd known what he was signing up for. She'd needed him, and he hadn't been about to let a cough hold him back. She'd trusted him to monitor his own health. He'd trusted her risk assessment to get him through in one piece.

"Glad to hear it," Shepard replied firmly, shelving the topic for good. She'd never been one to linger over guilt, or question her own command decisions. In the aftermath of Virmire, when Kaiden had been gripped by survivors guilt, it was Shepard's certainty about the necessity of the choice which had pulled him out of it. It wasn't that she didn't care when her decisions led to people being injured or killed; it was just that she trusted herself and her choices. It was something Garrus envied in her, more now than ever before.

She was eying him thoughtfully though, and made a gesture towards the mess hall table.

"Got a minute?" Shepard asked quietly, and some tension eased out of her when he nodded.

Curious, but agreeable, Garrus followed her into the open mess hall. A quick glance showed that Gardner was occupied in his kitchen, preparing the evening meal for the crew. They had perhaps an hour before it would begin to fill up with hungry crew seeking their dinner. The turian lowered himself into the human-style chair, watching Shepard mimic the gesture with her odd human grace.

"I told you earlier, I need someone I can trust with me on this. The Cerberus crew... they have their own objectives here, and I think we both know they're likely to be a little questionable," Shepard began, and he nodded agreement. "So you know, they bug everything. I've found their listening devices all over my damn ship. Feel free to step on any you come across."

Garrus snorted softly in amusement. "Happy to obey, Commander. I know we can't trust them." Though truthfully, the idea of Cerberus listening devices everywhere was making his skin itch. "So what's our game plan here, Shepard?"

Again, he watched that faint tension ease out of her. He wasn't sure what he'd said or done to reassure her.

"I'm still working on that," she answered ruefully. "They've had me running blind since I... woke up. The first thing I did was try to track down the old crew. According to Cerberus, everyone has moved on, or is out of contact. Except for you, of course..." She grinned across the table at him. "You just vanished. Not even Cerberus could track you down."

What could he say in response to that, except look smug? She rolled her eyes at him, and continued. "Tali wants nothing to do with Cerberus. I thought.. Well, there's a good chance everyone else will have the same opinion. You know all about the Illusive Man's dossiers... it's likely we'll have to go into this with just them, and our two Cerberus lapdogs. Things don't look great here, Garrus, I'll be blunt."

"Well, not one of your best speeches, Shepard. Where's all the inspiring clichés?" the turian drawled sardonically, shaking his head. He didn't like seeing her this disillusioned, it wasn't like her. Or rather, it wasn't like her to show anyone. Garrus continued. "Last time around, we didn't have much time to think. We were so busy running from one emergency to another, trying to keep up with Saren and work out what the hell we were up against... This time we know. It's going to be just as bad, and this time we know just how bad that can get. So what are our options? We give up and walk away, let the big bad Reapers take over the galaxy and kill everything organic?"

The look Shepard gave him – hard and very much not-amused – told him what she thought of that idea.

He laughed shortly. "Exactly. Not even an option for you. So we fight. We do what we can with what we've got. And one thing I've learnt about you, Shepard... you can do some very unexpected things. You turned an ex-cop, a merc, a quarian pilgrim and an archaeologist into a unified team that worked with your Alliance crew. Building a team is damn hard... I know, it takes a lot of work to get everyone on the same page." Garrus felt nervous, edging this close to the one topic he wanted very much to avoid, but he continued on anyway. She had to know he was behind her on this; that he believed in her. "If you had to, you could kick us all off the Normandy right now, and do this on your own. But your strength is your ability to make allies, to earn loyalty."

It was an ability he had tried to learn, but he had failed. He wasn't Shepard. That failure burned like acid in his chest, but he swallowed it down – again – and kept on. She seemed to be listening intently, but he didn't quite trust that gleam in her eye. Shepard had more self-confidence than anyone he'd ever met, she didn't need a pep talk. So what was really going on here? Garrus found himself hesitating, wondering where this was going. "If you can get Wrex to back you in destroying a cure for the genophage, you can get the Cerberus crew to follow you. So what's this really about?"

She looked away, as if guilty at being caught out. But Shepard wasn't one to back down – not in a fight, and not in... whatever this was. She was lifting her chin and staring him down firmly a second later. Garrus started to feel nervous again.

"Miranda is supposed to be my exec," the former Spectre explained, and it wasn't what Garrus was expected. Why did he so often feel out of his depth with Shepard? Her mind worked on lateral planes, unexpected inclines and unpredictable loops. He could never anticipate where she would come from next. All he could do was sit very still, watch her carefully, and wait. She sighed tiredly, and pressed her hands flat against the table, letting her eyes drop to them.

"They gave me Joker and Doctor Chakwas to make me feel more secure on a Cerberus ship. Hell, they rebuilt the Normandy for me. I know that Cerberus wants the same thing we do: the Reapers destroyed and humanity safe. Kudos to them," she added almost bitterly. "But they also want humanity in a position of dominance in the galaxy, and they'll use anything we find out there to that end. I can't let that happen."

"I understand, Shepard." Garrus stopped, then shook his head. "Actually, no I don't. What do you need from me here?" In a way he could never really explain, that question defined much of their relationship. He had seen in her someone he trusted as a leader, and had surrendered himself to that leadership. Where she led, he would follow. She seemed to be following that thought closely, because she held up a warning hand.

"I need an exec I can trust, Garrus. Someone I can rely on in the field, and off of it. Someone I know has the best interests of the galaxy at large in mind, and not those of a particular group." She was so serious, so intent, that just watching her speak was fascinating. Shepard had never spoken to him like this before. She seemed to recognise that too, smiling slightly into his confused stillness. "Yes, I mean you. You've changed, Garrus. I can see it in you, you're not the idealistic young C-Sec officer I met a few years back." Her small human head tilted, and he froze as he realized her eyes were tracing the frame of his visor, reading the names carved into it. The names of his dead team. The crossed-out name of the traitor.

Shepard studied them for a moment, then met his gaze again. "I don't need someone who will trust me blindly. I need someone who will have my back, but who knows that the mission is what matters and not the person leading it. It can't be about me, and I can't go into this thinking it will all fall apart if I die. I need someone who will follow where I lead, and will lead in my place if I fall."

His mandibles shifted slowly as Garrus listened in shock. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The logic of what she was saying made sense. The Reapers were bigger than Shepard, and if she fell, Cerberus would keep working to destroy the threat. But what damage would be done in the process? His mind wouldn't focus as he struggled to take in what she was saying.

Shepard was asking him to step up his game in more ways than one; stop following and start working with her on a more level playing field. The level of trust she held in him stunned Garrus, and he felt nerves flutter in his stomach at the prospect of their dynamic changing so irrevocably. The problem was, he didn't think he was up for the challenge.

"Shepard..." His voice was deeper than usual, rougher. Garrus cleared his throat nervously and looked away. "Shepard, you don't want to put me in charge of anything. I'm not... I'm not like you. I'm not a leader. I think what happened on Omega proves that." Damn, it hurt to say it. Hurt to swallow the truth down like a jagged lump in his throat. His mandibles were pressed tight to his face; his hands, resting on the table between them, were curling in on themselves with the anger that burned in him.

Then a tiny, pale human hand was resting over them. Small, soft fingers were delicately uncurling his much larger taloned ones, and Garrus' head snapped up to stare at Shepard in astonishment. The strength of her grip was surprising, but it shouldn't have been. He'd personally seen her strength in the battlefield, but to his certain knowledge, they had never actually touched outside a combat scenario before. It was different to dragging one another behind cover, or injecting medi-gel and holding a wound together until it closed. She wasn't wearing armour, for one thing, and her strength without it surprised him.

"Garrus, it's because of what happened on Omega that I'm asking you," she said softly, her eyes fixed on his face. Her hands carefully worked his open, palms up, and she pressed her own flat against them to prevent him clenching his hands into fists again. They were miniscule against his, her hands from wrist to fingertips barely covering the length of his own palms. Garrus found he could not look away from the sight as she continued speaking, his attention fixated on those pale fingertips resting at his wrist.

"You've always had a strong sense of justice, but the Officer Vakarian I met on the Citadel didn't know how to lead without losing track of the bigger picture. Now, I don't know what happened on Omega... you promised you'd tell me the whole story and when you're ready you will. I'm not pushing here, Garrus."

One small human finger tapped imperiously at his wrist, just over his pulse-point, and Garrus looked up into her face, startled. Shepard smiled at his skittishness. "I'm not asking for a freaking miracle here. I don't need you to be perfect. I need you to be there to watch my back, to stick to the plan, and not let Cerberus screw this up. Whatever happened on Omega changed you. Maybe not in a nice way, but it made you capable of doing what I need from you."

The turian was frozen solid, her words washing over him like ice locking him in place. Or was it her tiny, frail human hands pinning his to the table? Garrus didn't know where to look, could not quite meet the intensity of her gaze. He had never thought of it like that... had never known she'd even wondered about his potential... But she didn't seem to understand his point.

"I don't..." Garrus swallowed heavily. "There's a reason my team died on Omega."

But she was shaking her head in denial, and damn it, didn't she understand he was trying to do what was right for their crew here? He would follow her into Hell again, he'd already told her that. But she couldn't trust him to stand in her place, lead in her name. He couldn't let another team die, especially if it were one that _she _had entrusted him to keep safe. He wanted to open his mouth and blurt out the truth, that he'd gotten them killed... but he couldn't move.

Her felt her hands curl into small fists where they rested on his palms, and saw the muscles jumping along her jaw line. "You stubborn bastard. I'm not asking you because there's nobody else," she hissed at him, voice low and fierce. "I'd rather suck it up and do it alone like last time, than ask this from someone I didn't think could do what I needed. But you're here, you know what you're doing, and damn it Garrus, I need your help with this one."

Shepard wouldn't look away from him, and Garrus' thoughts were spinning in a whirlpool of chaos. His alarm at the idea of being put in charge again... _I'll fail them, the way I did my team, I'll let her down, let them all down_... was spinning in mindless confusion with the blind shock at her request... _she trusts me to do this, she believes in me..._ And some part of him that was still that younger self exulted in knowing his revered Commander Shepard trusted him so, while the part that had been Archangel reminded him that until Sidonis' betrayal, he'd been doing a damn fine job on Omega, thank you very much...

Garrus inhaled slowly, trying to calm his thoughts into coherence. He found himself watching Shepard with an attention to detail he had not previously granted her. Before, he could not have seen behind the mantle of 'Commander' to recognise that an individual stood there, as flawed and perhaps confused as any other sentient creature could be. But now, having known what it was like to have the lives of other soldiers placed in your hands, he could meet her gaze as an equal of sorts. He could look ahead and know what they were going into, and put aside his own self-doubts for the sake of the mission. And to ease her fears. He was sick with the thought of what she would say when he told her the truth about Omega, but he couldn't abandon her in this.

_Anything you need, Shepard. I'm right behind you. _How many times had he said those words to her? Before, all she'd needed was his rifle and good aim. Now she needed something more... and there was a sense of something opening up inside of him, as Garrus realized it was something that, just maybe, he could provide. It was surreal to realize how much he had changed in the past two years, and he shook his head slowly at the reality of that change. Maybe, once she knew about Sidonis, she would tell him she'd made a big mistake. He was a coward not to tell her now. But if he could prove himself worthy of this, maybe when he did tell her, she'd decide he was still salvageable.

"What... do you want from me?" he asked slowly, almost reluctantly, and felt her hands relax against his; heard a relieved sigh from the other side of the table. When he looked back at her, the muscles bunched along her jaw had relaxed, and the tension had eased from her small frame. She squeezed his hands lightly in gratitude and released them, leaning back in her chair.

"I want you with me on all of our missions. Watch my back and if I fall, get it done the way it needs to be done. Not the Cerberus way. Our way." He nodded slowly; he could do that. Hell, he was usually the first to put his hand up for a mission in the old days.

She smiled back at him in approval, and continued. "But more than that... I need your help planning what we do here. I want your input, your opinions, your suggestions. You've been through this before too, and you're more up to date with current affairs than I am. I'm going to need that; I can't trust Cerberus intel exclusively."

Garrus felt tension ease out of him slowly, and he nodded again. "Okay. And when Miranda asks why you're planning mission scenarios without her?" he asked with a weak smile.

To his surprise, Shepard's expression hardened, and she shrugged one shoulder. "I'll deal with Miranda. I'm not stupid enough to alienate her. You're right in what you said earlier – we will need her loyalty on this. She's smart, talented, and her biotic strength is amazing. I'd rather have her following me because she believes it's the right way, than because she's reporting everything back to Cerberus."

The turian chuckled at her calculation. Shepard had a way of sweet-talking people into her way of doing things – rather as she'd just done with him, in fact – so the unsuspecting victim had no idea of just how calculating her approach was. Even he had never quite grasped how deliberately she planned her actions until now.

"You're a dangerous woman, Shepard," he complimented her. His unhappiness with her proposal was fading slowly as he began to see just what she was asking. She wasn't dumping him back into the role he'd left on Omega, wasn't expecting perfection. She was still the Commander, and she wouldn't throw anything at him that he couldn't handle.

But... as always with this woman... Garrus found himself wanting to be good enough for anything she needed from him. Strong enough, smart enough, cunning enough to keep up with her.

Shepard grinned. "You're not the first to say so, Vakarian. Glad to have you onboard for this one. Now... we've got two choices on where to go from here. A convict called Jack – some kind of super-biotic – who's being held on a turian prison ship. The Purgatory." She glanced sidelong at Garrus and he just shrugged noncommittally, having no immediate information on the ship to add. "And Doctor Okeer, a krogan warlord." She dumped two data files on the table between them.

"_Doctor _Okeer?" Garrus blurted in surprise. "I didn't know krogan's had Doctors. Wrex never seemed to have anything pleasant to say about them."

"I remember. But Wrex never did have much pleasant to say about anyone," Shepard remarked with a fond grin. Hard to admit it, but Garrus could tell she missed the big krogan. "Anyway, Okeer is working to save the krogan from the genophage, and has gotten himself caught up with some Blue Suns on Korlus."

"Kidnapped?" he suggested dubiously. Garrus knew perfectly well how skilled the Blue Suns were, but he couldn't imagine them being quite badass enough to capture a krogan warlord. "Or do you think he's working with them?" He separated the data files and lay them side by side, studying the minimal information on them.

The Commander shook her head helplessly. "No way of knowing until we get there and can do some recon. I can't figure why Blue Suns would be involved in trying to cure the genophage, anymore than I can figure why they'd want to kidnap a krogan who's doing so."

Garrus was looking from one file to the other, his mandibles shifting unhappily. "Shepard... is it just me, or does it seem to you that a subversive, galaxy-spanning terrorist organisation with a better intelligence gathering division than anyone except the Shadow Broker should possibly know a bit more about the people they think would make good allies on this mission?"

Shepard snorted in amusement. "You got it, big guy. The Illusive Man is playing his cards too damn close to his chest, and right now, he's got all the power in this game. It's a trade off. I accept his suggestions, he pays my bills. If he pushes too hard, he knows I'll take the ship and run. I know if it gets that far, this job is going to get a hell of a lot harder, dodging Cerberus agents every other day."

She looked him straight in the eye, and Garrus was struck by how tired she looked. He had tried his best to avoid thinking about the process Cerberus used to revive her... in fact, now that she was back, he was doing his damnedest to just forget that she'd ever been gone... no point dwelling on something that had just about ripped his world apart, now that it had been fixed as cleanly as if someone had hit the big red reset button on reality. But looking at her now, he had to accept the truth of what she'd been through. She looked bone-tired, and surprisingly vulnerable. It was not something he'd ever expected to see in Shepard. She was the poster child for soldiering on in the face of adversity.

"The convict," he said suddenly, surprising himself with the sudden switch in topic. She blinked at him and he explained. Anything to get her focus back on action, instead of worrying about what couldn't be changed. "I say we go get the convict first. Seems pretty straight forward, go collect a prisoner the Illusive Man has already arranged the release of. I'd say what could go wrong with that, except I don't want to jinx us."

"Too late, Garrus," Shepard groaned at him.

He chuckled. "In the meantime, I'll check with some of my contacts and see if anyone knows what the Blue Suns are up to on Korlus. Maybe we can get a bit more intel before we go in there, see what's really going on. I don't like walking in blind anymore than you do."

Commander Shepard smirked across the table at him, and he felt her boot kick him lightly in the shin. Judging from the nod of approval she gave him, he concluded the gesture was meant to indicate her satisfaction with him, rather than being the prelude to a verbal dressing down. There were times he still found humans a little odd.

"See, I knew you were the right man for the job. Alright, Jack's first on our shopping list. You let me know what you get on the Blue Suns, and maybe we can decide how to handle that one. But Garrus..." she held up a finger warningly, and he found himself studying its delicate length in fascination, recalling how light it had felt on his hand. "I swear, if things screw up on Purgatory, I am holding you personally responsible for it."

The turian gave a low chuckle, nudging the data files back in her direction. "You know me, Shepard, I always like to keep things interesting."

"Is that really why you picked the convict? I'd have thought you'd want to stay as far away from a lawbreaker as possible. Or did your time on Omega get you more comfortable with criminals?"

There was too much insight in her expression, and Garrus shifted uncomfortably on his chair. Shook his head. "No. But that's why I want to go after him first. Having a convicted criminal on the Normandy makes me nervous... seems like a bad idea. But I don't run away when I'm nervous. I leap head first. Sometimes into missiles," he admitted, with a gesture towards his bandaged, artificially-reconstructed right cheek. He tried for a grin, but knew it was a poor effort. Still, it was enough to make her smile at him.

"Or maybe you're just a crazy son of a bitch who doesn't know when to get the hell out of dodge?" Shepard suggested, with that grin dancing about the corner of her mouth. "Seriously, Garrus. You have a bad habit of taking on suicide missions. I'll have to train you out of that."

"Are you sure about that, Shepard? You can drop me off at the next inhabited world we come across, but when you're in the middle of a fight with the Collectors and find yourself thinking, 'damn it sure would be good if I had the best sniper in the galaxy at my back,' you'll have only yourself to blame," Garrus drawled back at her.

"Arrogant turian bastard," she threw back at him in retaliation, and he grinned. The teasing was a side of her he'd only seen rarely, after a particularly successful mission, or when they'd had an unexpected windfall. After the battle of the Citadel, when she'd been damn near playful in her delight over their success. It was reassuring to see it now, and oddly flattering to realize it was probably his willingness to help her on this mission that had made her so happy for the moment.

But he'd been the one in charge on Omega, and he knew how damn lonely it was in that position. How hard it was to be the one making the decisions, to be the only one who could shoulder the blame when it all went wrong. He watched her gather up the dossiers and slide them into a thigh pocket, and knew that he'd do everything in his power to lighten her load this time around. They'd asked too much of her already. She'd been brought back from the dead to save the galaxy – again.

It was more than any living creature should be called on to do, and it was damn sure more than Shepard should be asked to do alone.

"What can I say? I am the best, and you get what you pay for." He eyed her suspiciously. "Since Cerberus is footing our bills here, I assume I _am_ getting paid for selflessly risking life and limb to defend the galaxy from invasion? Again?"

"Of course, and I think you even got a pay rise. Great medical cover. Not so big on the retirement package," she replied.

"And I won't look too closely at where the money comes from," Garrus concluded, a bit more grimly. There was something obscene about taking Cerberus blood money, knowing as he did exactly what sort of sick experiments they were involved in. Knowing the kinds of things they did to draw revenue to fund projects like this one. He could see the same grimness reflected back at him from Shepard's manner.

"I meant what I said about taking out their bugs. Keep the main battery clear of them. I've got my quarters clean. We'll meet in either one of those places."

Garrus glanced around the mess hall thoughtfully, considering the reality of the situation. "You don't think they'll just replace anything we destroy?" he asked curiously.

Shepard shook her head confidently. "No. It's a game, Garrus. The Illusive Man knows damn well I won't let him get away with spying on me everywhere. We compromise. He gets most of the ship, I get a few areas I want clean. If I pushed to clear out all the listening devices, he'd let me know in some unpleasant way that I'd crossed a line. If he pushed to replace the ones I destroyed, I'd do the same. In the end, it's a balancing act. Neither of us pushes the other too far, and we can work together. He tried to shove Miranda down my throat as my exec, and I'm not having a bar off it. But because I'm still willing to work with her, he won't pitch a fit about me bringing you in at this level." The Commander shrugged dismissively, leaving Garrus puzzled and amazed by her cavalier attitude to this sort of political manoeuvring. It didn't seem something that was common in the Alliance military, so he wondered where Shepard had learned it.

She smiled gently at his bemused expression, and stood up. "Trust me, Garrus. The day might come when the Illusive Man and I move against each other for real, but until then, it's just posturing." The sudden sound of voices behind them made her glance over her shoulder at a few of the crew who had evidently just emerged from the elevator, coming around the corner to the mess hall. "Get some dinner and have an early night, Garrus. You've had a rough week. Missile to the face, and a plague. I don't know how you'll top that, but I'm sure you'll manage to surprise me. You usually do. In the meantime, I'm going to let Joker know to get us headed in the direction of Korlus."

With that, she was gone, throwing a casual nod to the crewmen who she passed on her way out of the mess hall. They looked past her to Garrus, and he watched the wary uncertainty grow on their faces. For a moment, he just sat there, absorbing all that had happened, blankly watching the Cerberus crew as they edged around him to a far table.

Somehow, he had a feeling they'd have a few objections if they worked out he'd been unofficially – or was it officially? – promoted above their Agent Lawson as Shepard's exec. Although he hadn't exactly had enough free time to mingle with the crew, Garrus was aware enough to recognise their latent hostility towards him. They were part of a human-centric organisation; he couldn't expect anything else really. He figured Shepard wanted him backing her more for his strategic skills than his interpersonal ones, but meshing with the crew could only help here.

Hell, he'd practically told her to go earn Miranda's loyalty. The least he could do was try to make nice with the Cerberus crew.

"Try the chicken soup," he suggested as he rose from the table on his way out. They turned and stared at him in shock, or maybe confusion, and his mandibles twitched into a turian style grin. One that he carefully ensured didn't show any teeth. Humans got funny when you flashed a mouthful of sharp turian teeth at them; probably some backbrain primate response. "I heard Jacob say it was the one thing Gardner couldn't screw up." One of them grinned, a bit nervously, and another snickered. "But hey, what do I know. I can't even eat your levo-amino foods, and to be honest, I'm not really sure what a 'chicken' actually is."

He was satisfied when Crewman Goldstein gave a surprised laugh, and waved him farewell as he turned to leave. It wasn't exactly ground-breaking, but it was a start. Most of these humans had probably never had much to do with aliens, and folk always feared the unknown. If all he had to do was show them that the big scary turian was just as much a real, living sentient as them, he could do it. He didn't need to be best buddies with the crew - just make sure they could all work together. And if going out of his way to be a bit more sociable than was his habit would do it, Garrus was willing to play the game.

In the meantime, he had some old friends to track down and question about Blue Suns activities in the Eagle Nebula.


	4. Chapter 3: Delirium of the Brave

A/N – The positive response I've received to this story has encouraged me to continue with it. All constructive reviews welcome!

I've mixed and matched some of the earlier pre-Horizon dialogue options with Garrus to create a realistic conversation within the context of this story. I've kept the progression as accurate as I can, for the sake of authenticity. Also, my description of the Thanix cannon upgrades are drawn from the codex. There's a slight discrepancy between whether it can reliably fire every 15 seconds or every 5, so I've come up with my own answer to that. (Yes, I am just that pedantic.) Enjoy... :)

* * *

Miranda was not happy.

It wasn't a surprise, of course. Miranda was there to safeguard Cerberus interests, as well as observe the results of the Lazarus Project... and Shepard had just offered a convicted criminal free access to a significant chunk of sensitive Cerberus data. In Miranda's position, Shepard figured she'd be plenty pissed too. Even without having been taunted and mocked by aforementioned convicted criminal.

As soon as the Purgatory mission debrief had concluded, and Jack had stormed off to find the most isolated part of the ship to bunk down in, Miranda had shot Shepard a glare which could only be described as venomous, and requested a meeting. If a terse "my office, Shepard – now!" could be considered a request. Bearing in mind her resurgent desire to build some kind of alliance with Miranda, Shepard had concluded that having the bitchfest sooner rather than later would prevent letting emotions fester into irreparable hostility. But in the interests of reinforcing her position of authority, she left it an hour before heading down to Miranda's office.

Shepard now stood with arms crossed, an expectant expression directed at the Cerberus woman who was absently twitching at a stack of datafiles on her desk. Miranda seemed to be engaged in some internal debate as to how best to begin, as she took a series of controlled breaths. After a moment, Miranda lay her hands flat on her desk, and looked up at Shepard with a deliberately calm expression.

"I think you can guess how the Illusive Man will respond to this," the agent began, her accented voice carefully calm.

Shepard tilted her head in mild surprise. If Miranda genuinely wanted to discuss this, the conversation might be longer than a mere rant. In appreciation of the other woman's reasonableness, Shepard took the seat facing the desk.

Framing her response, the Commander decided on blunt honesty. "Of course. Nobody likes being caught with their hand in the cookie jar, and I think we both appreciate that's what happened here."

Miranda protested immediately. "The situation isn't how Jack represented it, Commander. Cerberus files indicate it was a splinter group that incarcerated Jack. It wasn't an approved project."

"Save it, Miranda," Shepard answered, waving her hand in sharp dismissal. "You _are_ accountable for all uses of Cerberus funds, and failing to monitor that doesn't excuse your organisation from the ethical responsibility of what was done to Jack. But that's not the issue here." The Commander paused a moment to judge Miranda's response. The woman didn't look happy, but she evidently didn't have anything to counter that unpleasant reality, and appeared to settle for looking deeply disgruntled instead. "Kelly's already given me her 'expert' analysis of Jack's unstable psyche. You've probably already got the analysis downloaded to your desktop. Jack identifies Cerberus as her tormentors. We showed up in a Cerberus ship. How, exactly, would you suggest we build an alliance with her if we _didn't _give her the information she was after?"

It was an approach Shepard had found reasonably successful in her command experience on Alliance vessels. In non-combat situations, challenges to her orders were often handled best by seeming to ask for input from her people. In the end, she made the call, but a bit of diplomacy was useful for any commanding officer. When dealing with civilian allies like Miranda – and dubious allies at that – it could end up proving her most effective tool.

Miranda chewed on her bottom lip unhappily. "We can't give her unrestricted access, Shepard. That's asking too much."

"I agree." Shepard smiled slightly at Miranda's surprise. "But that's not what she wants. She only wants access to files relating to her past. Set her up with full access, and slap a filter on her login so she can only see anything relevant. Or are you saying she doesn't deserve to know the truth about what was done to her?"

At the sharply inquisitive stare Shepard levelled at her, Miranda sighed in frustration. "We can't just go handing about access to Cerberus databases... doing so would risk compromising our entire mission here. We don't know anywhere near enough about her," the Cerberus agent warned.

"Hmm. Yeah. Don't you find that strange?" It was a delicate push, but Shepard was curious to see how the young woman would respond. "The Illusive Man has decided Jack is exactly what we need to take out the Collectors, but what is that based on? The dossier doesn't give any real background info on her. It didn't even mention her past association with Cerberus. If he had intel suggesting we needed to take extra precautions with her, he'd have given it to us. There's no point blinding us without cause, is there?" The Illusive Man would have his reasons, of course. Even if it was just because he happened to be the galaxy's biggest asshole. But Miranda's loyalty to Cerberus came from a sort of blindness that ran counter to her entire character, and it made Shepard want to poke and prod at it. See where it came from. See if she could awaken it to reality.

But with a sudden shake of her head, Miranda appeared to regain her confidence. She straightened her shoulders stubbornly and lifted her chin. "Shepard, I appreciate that you don't trust Cerberus, or the Illusive Man. Your hostility is entirely understandable, given your past dealings with certain arms of the organisation. We aren't what you think we are. Cerberus does a lot of good for humanity, we're involved with charities on a large number of colonies, and our pharmaceutical R&D branches have had amazing success in curing any number of –"

_Oh, hell,_ Shepard thought in exasperation. _Jack's right. She really is a Cerberus cheerleader._

"Miranda, please. Cut the bad apple metaphor, it just won't wash." It may have come out a bit harsher than she'd intended it, but Shepard was satisfied to see the other woman cut off her PR spiel. She sighed. "Listen. All I'm saying is either you trust the Illusive Man's intel... in which case, Jack is a necessary part of this team, and we need to forge a relationship with her. You know damn well she'll just jump ship at the next planet we land on if we screw her over now. Right?"

The Cerberus agent hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Not that I'd regret seeing her leave, but yes."

Shepard smirked a bit at that admission. "So either you trust the Illusive Man's decision, and we do this to keep her onboard. Or you don't trust it, and I'll go back on my word, and we'll dump her on the next rock we come across."

It was a gamble, but Shepard was playing out the rope. She wanted to see what Miranda would do with it. The woman was looking awfully thoughtful, clearly puzzling her way through the dilemma. In all honesty, Shepard probably couldn't hack her way through the Cerberus databases on her own to keep her promise to Jack. She needed Miranda on side to make this happen. But better to make it seem a generous compromise than the unfortunate reality.

"I trust the Illusive Man," Miranda finally admitted. "But I don't..."

"You don't trust me."

The evasive shift of Miranda's eyes confirmed Shepard's blunt statement. The Commander leaned forward, planting her elbows on the desk between them. "Look, I'm not going to tell you Jack won't snoop. I'm sure she'll try. But you can monitor what she does, and lock her out the second you think you're being compromised. If this all blows up in our faces, you can give me the 'I told you so' speech. And if it doesn't... then maybe you can take another look at whether or not you want to trust my judgement. Because this isn't going to work if you second guess every decision I make."

Shepard watched the brunette wrestle with the idea, and kept her gaze steady on Miranda's intent dark eyes. She had taken onboard Garrus' remarks about building team loyalty, and Miranda was a lynch pin for that goal. The Cerberus agent was in a position to override Shepard's decisions if she wanted to, and no ship or mission could succeed with two commanders having a dick-waving contest. But if she could show Miranda that doing things her way would achieve results... if she could win that razor-sharp mind and steel will to her side... Where Miranda led, the Cerberus crew would follow, Shepard had no doubts of that.

After a long moment Miranda nodded slowly, clearly reluctant.

"Alright, Shepard. I don't like it, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise. But I'll give you a shot here. I hope we don't all regret this," she warned coolly, and twisted her chair to face back towards her computer monitor. Apparently, the meeting was over.

"We'll chat again soon," Shepard replied wryly. As she left the office, the Commander reflected that it might be a good idea to reinstitute her practice of holding post-mission chats with her main crew. It had served her well on the first Normandy, helping her to get to know her alien crew and understand what made them tick. It was, in fact, a fairly crucial part of her team building regime.

So. Time to go build some good team dynamics.

Miranda's office door closed behind her, and Shepard found herself heading almost automatically towards the main battery. Her destination wasn't decided solely on the basis of Garrus' immediate proximity. While it was true she already had a pretty good rapport with Garrus, she also wasn't blind to the fact that her friend was in a bad place after Omega. Since he was already familiar with her practice of random visits, he wouldn't find it at all suspicious if she stopped by just to check in.

Feeling a little bit smug about her own logic, Shepard passed by the galley, throwing a wave to Gardner and heading for the doors to the main battery. The doors were closed, which wasn't strictly necessary. It wasn't hard to guess that Garrus would prefer solitude and privacy on a Cerberus-run ship. The doors opened before her and she could see the turian at his workstation there, peering intently at whatever had been occupying him in there all day. Last she'd seen him, he'd been muttering over some calibrations.

Hearing the doors open behind him, the turian straightened and turned to face her. His expression relaxed into a welcoming shift of his mandibles.

"Shepard," he greeted pleasantly. "Need me for something?"

Making small talk with a turian was pretty simple. When it was Garrus, it was even easier. Just ask him about weapons. "Yeah. What can you tell me about the Normandy's armaments?" Shepard inquired with a glance over his shoulder at the station he'd been working at.

Garrus smirked at her, turian-style. "Looks like Cerberus upgraded what the ship carried before. Should have a _bit _more kick. I still don't like our chances against a Collector ship though. Not unless we upgrade the guns."

It matched Shepard's own assessment of the new Normandy's capabilities, so she nodded her agreement. They were the only two people on this ship who really knew what they were up against. They'd already faced the Collectors once before. It had destroyed the original Normandy, and Shepard, and even this new version of the vessel wouldn't stand up against them without some major improvements. But Garrus was watching her with a particularly bright gleam in his eyes, and there was something so knowing about it, that Shepard immediately relaxed.

"Have you got any upgrade ideas for the Normandy's weapons systems?" she inquired hopefully.

The knowing gleam brightened, and Garrus' manner turned immediately smug. "A few, yeah. Here, take a look."

Chuckling softly, Shepard stepped towards the console he indicated, and watched as his long three-fingered hands called up the specs of something called a Thanix Magnetic-Hydrodynamic Cannon. As the details on the weapon scrolled across the screen, Shepard found herself gripping the edge of the console to keep herself steady on her feet. This thing was practically a reaper weapon! She glanced up once, sharply, to meet Garrus' pleased gaze, and then snapped her attention immediately back to the screen.

The weapon held a massive element zero core, which powered the electromagnetic field which could be triggered to fire molten iron-uranium-tungsten alloy projectiles... every fifteen seconds with a reasonable degree of reliability, and every five seconds for pure impact value. Shepard was willing to bet her last thermal clip this technology had been reverse-engineered from the remnants of Sovereign that fell to the Citadel. She exhaled slowly and watched the weapon's stats for a moment longer. Well. There was no doubt it would give them a fighting chance against the Collectors... Sovereign's gun was a recurring personal nightmare for her, and the thought of taming it to her control gave her a perverse sense of pleasure.

Shepard stepped back slowly, keeping her eyes on Garrus. She'd had no doubt he'd be able to come up with something... but he had surpassed her expectations by leaps and bounds, and she let that impressed approval show in her face.

The turian closed the file and leaned back against his console, seeming uncharacteristically modest in the face of her appreciation. "Let me know when you've got the materials for me to upgrade our guns."

Garrus knew as well as she did that this would be a major overhaul. Shepard's mind reviewed the logistics of the upgrade. They'd have to spend a few solid days, maybe a week or two, hunting for mineral-rich planets to supply the raw elements necessary. The entire crew would be called on to manufacture and install the new weapon, maybe another two or three days sitting in a safe system while they did the EVA work to mount it on the Normandy... It would take a while, but once they secured the raw materials, it was eminently do-able. She smiled warmly at him, and saw him relax a little.

Shepard hadn't forgotten her main reason for stopping by, however. She kept her tone deliberately casual as she asked him, "so have the Cerberus crew been giving you any trouble?"

Garrus answered quickly to reassure her. "I think being part of the team that took down Saren got me some points. Everyone I talk to is polite anyway. Don't worry Commander. We're all working together."

_Hmmm_, Shepard reflected. _In other words, they're ignoring him unless they have to, but at least they're not giving him shit or trying to slip levo-amino food into his dinner. _Come to think of it, Shepard hadn't seen Garrus eating in public and wondered if he'd simply chosen to side-step the entire issue of non-lethal but uncomfortable anonymous poisoning by securing his food stores from the Cerberus crew. It was something he'd do. Obsessive, protective, borderline paranoid.

She grimaced at the reality that there was probably a need for it. The Cerberus crew were all playing happy families right now, but they were still Cerberus. Until they could adapt to having aliens onboard, there was a chance they'd do something rash due to their anti-alien prejudices.

Meanwhile, Garrus was regarding her expectantly. "Is there anything else, Commander?"

Shepard tilted her head to smile at him. "Actually, yeah. I don't want to interrupt. Have you got a minute to talk?" the Commander asked carefully, mentally steeling herself for an abrupt dismissal. Last time she'd asked this, he'd made some evasive comment about his calibrations and practically shoved her out the door.

Shepard watched him hesitate and, to her pleasure, Garrus shrugged and nodded.

"Sure. I was just checking the weapons systems," the turian replied diffidently.

From his borderline reluctance, Shepard figured he knew what she was after... that full disclosure he'd promised her on Omega... and she deliberately dropped her 'Commander' stance. Moving further into the main battery, Shepard felt his eyes tracking her behind the visor as she leaned casually on the rail which overlooked the Normandy's main drive system.

She watched him shut down the program he'd had running on the terminal when she came in, and lock off access to the fire control systems.

"You can never be too careful," the turian explained conversationally as he turned to watch her. "I thought I'd seen every weapon in the galaxy in our fight against Saren. Mercenary work showed me otherwise. And now Cerberus rebuilds the Normandy with a few... upgrades... to boot. I wish we'd joined up with them sooner."

Despite knowing that the delight in Garrus' expression was all for the new toys he was getting to play with, Shepard couldn't help but grimace at his choice of words. "We haven't _joined_ Cerberus. They're funding our mission. That's _all._"

Immediately, he lifted his hand in a soothing gesture. "Relax, Shepard. Just a figure of speech."

_Well, at least I'm 'Shepard' again, and not 'Commander'_, she thought wryly. Shepard made another grimace and deliberately relaxed back against the rail, saying nothing more. Garrus exhaled softly, dropping his gaze from hers to study the ground between them.

"Besides, it's not like I can question your judgement. Not after I got my own squad killed."

The woman could feel her shoulders tense at his softly bitter rejoinder. Despite her curiosity about the events leading to his situation on Omega, Shepard had promised herself she wouldn't pry. Garrus was her friend, and she owed him the chance to process events on his own. Yet here he was, laying it out before her like an offering... or an admission. The Commander hesitated a long moment, before she asked him quietly, "how did you end up fighting mercenaries here on Omega?"

Garrus took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I went back to C-Sec after the Normandy was destroyed... but with all the rebuilding at the Citadel, there was too much chaos for me to really help." He shook his head. "Omega was filled with criminals that nobody else could touch. And there was no red tape to slow me down. It was a perfect fit. People there needed someone to believe in. Someone to stand up to the local thugs."

His flanging voice was filled with an intensity Shepard was hard pressed to identify. Yearning. Satisfaction. It wasn't hard to imagine the relief a displaced, younger Garrus would have felt at being able to make a visible dent in such a high-crime location. The Commander watched him move restlessly, pacing the length of the main battery.

"That explains how you started. How'd you end up with a squad?"

To her surprise, he chuckled softly. "Not too different from how you formed your squad to fight Saren, actually. You prove that you get things done, and people join up. Mercs who wanted to atone. Security consultants tired of playing by the rules." Garrus met her eyes with a kind of miserable pride. "I gave them hope!" The turian folded in on himself; his eyes fell dully to the ground. "Now they're dead. Shows what I know."

There was an ache in her chest to see her friend like this. A part of Shepard wanted desperately to bury the conversation, stop poking and prying at these raw wounds and let him heal in solitude. Another part of her knew that this sense of failure would cripple him. It had to be drawn out, the wound lanced and the poison dealt with. "Tell me about your squad," she commanded gently.

There was resistance, but the habit of obeying her was apparently too deeply ingrained. With a sigh, Garrus answered her. "There were twelve of us, including me. Former military operatives, C-Sec agents... the usual. I had a salarian explosives expert... pretty sure he'd spent time in the Special Tasks Group. My tech expert was a batarian, believe it or not. Not the friendliest guy, but he could hack _any _system ever built."

Shepard tilted her head in consideration. With a team like that behind him, there was a lot he could have done; a lot of ways to misuse the power. "What did your merc squad do? It didn't sound like you were available for hire."

"You saw Omega," Garrus answered, mandibles flaring in disgust. "It was full of thugs kicking the helpless. I formed my team to kick back. We weren't mercenaries... at least, nobody was paying us. We made money by taking down pirates, slavers, or gangs that went too far."

She straightened up, her expression suddenly concerned. "It sounds like you were just another gang..."

"Then I'm saying it wrong." Garrus looked frustrated, and went back to pacing the small area. "We didn't shake anyone down. No civilian casualties. That was our rule. Every member of my team had lost someone to Omega's gangs. We weren't out to get rich. We were out to make those bastards think twice before murdering someone in the street." The frustration was rolling off him in waves. The flanging quality of his voice was almost obscured by the not-quite-defensive ferocity.

Listening to him, Shepard relaxed in relief. She could never doubt Garrus' word. It wasn't just turian honour that ensured his honesty; it was some indefinable integrity that was a core part of who he was. She was more relieved than she could admit to find that his integrity hadn't been corrupted by Omega.

"Well, it doesn't sound like you made any friends of the gangs," Shepard responded in backhanded compliment.

The old Garrus arrogance peeked through for a moment."I got three separate merc bands to work together to take me down. My manager at C-Sec would be impressed. It was simple. We'd hit their shipments, disrupt activities, get under their skin. Make them angry." His voice had dropped to that low turian drawl that was almost a purr as Garrus sidestepped into his happy place. "They'd come charging right into our carefully prepared kill zone. Crossfire and snipers. Clean and surgical. They never stood a chance."

It was impressive, no doubt about it. But had she really expected anything less? In terms of tactical knowledge, and combat skill, Garrus was nothing short of brilliant. If that alone had been the criteria, he would have rocketed up the ranks of C-Sec and made Spectre easily. It was always the political side that tripped him up, though. The part that couldn't play the games, that couldn't bite his tongue and ignore corruption in any measure. In a way, Shepard was a bit flattered to have his loyalty. It said something about her, if this was the quality of ally she attracted. But even she had to shake her head over the stubborn nobility that saw him eying up a floating bucket of villainy and deciding he was the man to clean it up.

There was something about Garrus that reminded her of a sheriff in the wild west vids. It was true, she'd worried he had rejected everything she'd tried to teach him... and on the surface it might seem to be the case. But the truth was, he hadn't. If he'd pulled a stunt like this on the Citadel, she'd have probably beat the living shit out of him. Instead, he'd taken the lateral approach. Found a place where the 'rules' only enforced abuse and mistreatment, and sought to establish a new way of living. That he had to do it by the gun wasn't something she could fault him for. His intentions, and even his methods, fell in line with the philosophy she'd tried to teach him. It appeared he had taken that to heart, in his own unique way.

Garrus had been dangerous enough when he was all reckless enthusiasm and blunt determination. Now, coupled with leadership ability and a goal-oriented outset, he was damned near lethal. So what had gone wrong?

"How did those mercenary gangs take down your team?" She saw him flinch back from the question, and almost regretted asking it. Almost. But he needed to tell her, as much as she needed to know.

Garrus turned away, walking slowly towards the open doorway. "It was my own damn fault. One of my people betrayed me."

Shepard followed slowly, a few feet behind. Even from here, she could see the intensity radiating from him. Anger straightened his shoulders, clenched his three-fingered hands into taloned fists. Garrus was shaking his head almost savagely and his stalk down the corridor outside the main battery was stiff-legged and graceless with tension. "A turian named Sidonis," he spat. "He drew me away, just before the mercs attacked my squad. Then he disappeared. Everyone except me is dead because of him." Garrus turned to face her, lights flaring off his scope. "And because I didn't see it coming."

Commander Shepard shook her head. "I'm not sure I understand. What happened, exactly?"

There was something savage and almost feral visible in the one eye she could see clearly. Shepard didn't for a moment doubt it was matched in equal measure in its partner obscured behind his visor. Garrus was remembering all too vividly the events that led up to the loss of his team, his friends, his allies.

"Sidonis asked for my help on a job. When I got to the meeting point, nobody was there. By the time I got back to our hideout, the mercs had killed all but two of my squad. And they didn't last long..."

Her eyes flicked instantly to the last two names carved into his visor. How easily she could picture this turian pinned down in their retreat, using the spare moments between attacks to furiously carve their names into the one thing he could feel confident he'd always have with him. She'd never seen Garrus without that visor; she had a pretty strong suspicion he even slept with it on. "Are you sure it was a betrayal?" Shepard asked carefully. Her eyes were stuck on that crossed-out name. "Maybe they took Sidonis out first?"

But Garrus shook his head sharply. "No. I put out feelers with some old contacts. He booked transport off Omega just before the attack. He also cleared out his private accounts before he left." The turian's sharp teeth were visible as he snarled, "he sold me out and ran."

_Well, not a lot of ambiguity in that_, Shepard reflected with an internal wince. Part of the benefit of working in the military was that that kind of betrayal wasn't really a possibility – or if it happened, it tended to end with court martials or, in times of war, a single lethal shot to the head.

This, on the other hand, was an entirely different situation indeed. It didn't take a genius to work out that Garrus was carrying a metric shitload of unresolved fury over what had happened. The practical part of the Commander recognised that it could take Garrus' focus and attention away from the mission at hand – and if that happened at a critical moment, more people could die. The part of Shepard that was his friend worried that he would let the guilt and anger eat him up, turn him into something bitter and... not the Garrus Vakarian she knew.

There was really only one way to ensure that didn't happen, she decided quite calmly. Find Sidonis _now _and deal with this issue. "Do you know where Sidonis is now?" Shepard asked and deliberately kept her voice calm. Garrus was a private man, and not one to appreciate her trying to help in a personal matter unless he asked first.

"No," he replied eventually. "His trail vanishes after he left Omega. But I'll keep hunting. I lost my whole team, except for Sidonis. One day I'll find him... and correct that."

A delicate shiver ran down her spine at the savage ferocity of his manner, the sharp brutality of his snarl. It wasn't hard in that moment to remember that turians had all the physical features of the apex predator; their bodies were built for hunting and killing. The savage teeth to rip at flesh, the razor-sharp claws to rend and kill.

As if belatedly realizing that he had revealed more than he had intended, Garrus turned away abruptly. He lay his hands flat against the console and they looked large and lethal against the human-made technology. "Thanks for coming by, Shepard. I've got some things to take care of," he advised and the dismissal was clear. She could read the tension in his frame even from behind, and Shepard knew she could push... for more information; for a demand that he not do anything rash, or without consulting her...

But doing so would alienate him from the one person he trusted on this ship. There were simply too many issues involved in this, and Shepard wasn't prepared to risk provoking him over this yet.

In the end, she simply had to trust that if he found Sidonis - when the time came - he would speak to her first. And if she couldn't trust him to do that much, then why the hell was he even here?

The knowledge resolved her to patience, and Shepard quietly left the main battery. She could hear Garrus' soft, relieved sigh just before the doors closed behind her, locking him into his safe isolation again. It wasn't her job to babysit the emotional integrity of her crew, or her friends, and if Garrus wanted to hide away in the main battery, that was his choice and she'd let it be. He'd kept his word and told her how the Omega mess had came about. She would have to show him equal respect and trust that he could handle this on his own, or come to her if he needed help.

Commander Shepard squared her shoulders and moved decisively down the corridor to the galley. Next on her list of team building chats: Jacob Taylor.

* * *

The diffused back lighting of the fish tank cast an azure radiance across much of Shepard's quarters, and the low-pitched hum was almost soothing. But there was still something kind of disturbing about looking up to see empty water.

_Next place we stop, I'm getting some damned fish,_ she promised herself and almost laughed at the thought. _Fish? What next, a freaking hamster? _She peered through the glass display cabinet that separated this small 'office' from the main lower floor of her quarters, and snorted softly at the model ships hanging there. She hadn't collected model ships since she was a kid on Mindoir. These quarters were so damned luxurious compared to anything she'd experience on an Alliance vessel, sometimes it was hard to feel comfortable in them. Other times, when she found them kind of cozy, she started to wonder if she was really that soft.

"Analysis complete, Commander," EDI's voice interrupted her thoughts and Shepard leaned back in her chair, swivelling back to the monitor of her private terminal. EDI brought up the review of neighbouring systems and documented mineral surveys and claims. Even as a Spectre, she wouldn't have been able to claim jump an established mine, but Shepard could get an idea of the probable options in the local area. The difficulty lay in the scarcity of accurate records in the Terminus Systems. They weren't exactly poster children for law and order, which went hand in hand with accurate record keeping. Claims were usually established at gun point, and held the same way. Claim jumpers who didn't ensure their own security were 'punished' by being overrun by either the ousted original owners on a vengeance trip, or potential new owners with a driving urge to engage in the mining industry.

Reviewing EDI's analysis, Shepard sighed and rubbed her eyes. She'd been at this for hours, using the time as the Normandy's headed for Korlus to try to work out the best place to start looking for the resources necessary to build the cannon Garrus had suggested. Her friendly chat with Jacob had also raised the possibility of upgrading the hull with heavy armor, and Shepard's estimation of their chances of success had risen accordingly. It was becoming more important than ever that they take some time to stop and collect the raw materials necessary to make the upgrades.

Shepard felt as though there was a time bomb ticking away slowly in the back of her mind. Seconds slid out of her grasp, and each one brought them closer and closer to the inevitable face off with the Collectors. They _had _to be prepared. She couldn't lose another Normandy. The drive to prepare for that conflict was a constant force within us, guiding her every action and thought. It was growing into an obsession, but Shepard could live with that.

It seemed as though they had a little time yet... but she couldn't just sit back and take her sweet time about getting this sorted. Each day that passed brought a greater risk of another attack on a human colony, and when it happened, Shepard knew she would be partly responsible. If she couldn't get her ass into gear and get moving, more colonies would be taken.

They needed time, and they didn't have any.

With a low growl, Shepard pushed away from the terminal. "EDI, feed this data through to Joker. Once we've got Okeer, tell him to point us in the direction of the nearest flagged planet."

"Yes, Commander," the AI responded sedately, and Shepard closed the file on her terminal. She rubbed her eyes tiredly.

A soft double-beep was an unexpected interruption. Shepard blinked in confusion, trying to identify the sound. When it came again, she belatedly realized it was coming from her door panel. No wonder she hadn't recognised it; nobody had ever come to her quarters before.

Curious, the Commander rose from her chair and stepped towards her door, pressing her hand lightly to the control. The door opened on a blue-armored turian who'd apparently given up on the door being answered and had turned back towards the elevator.

Shepard cleared her throat loudly, and Garrus spun around to face her.

"Oh! Commander, you are here... I'm sorry, I thought you were out..." the turian said, and Shepard had to smile at his uncharacteristically sheepish demeanor. "I would have waited until I saw you next, but you said you preferred to meet in the main battery or your office and –"

The smile blossomed into a smirk and Shepard lifted a hand up to stop his near-babble. "It's ok, Garrus. You're not interrupting. Come on in."

She backed away from the door and the big turian approached unsurely. His eyes were darting about in the same way he surveyed a battlefield; it was rather amusing to observe his cautiousness. It made Shepard wonder if turians had a strong sense of privacy, or maybe territorial instincts. She'd never seen him look so uncertain as he stepped inside her quarters.

"I was just finishing up a review of potential mining sites to get us started on that cannon of yours," the Commander explained, giving an inviting gesture to encourage him further into her room. She stepped lightly down the two steps to the lower level, where her sofa would provide the best option for strategy planning. She assumed that was why he was here, after all. "Take a seat, Garrus."

Garrus paused at the bottom of the steps, seemingly flummoxed by the presence of an empty tank of water. She grinned a little, watching him shrug it off – presumably as _some human thing_– and switch his gaze over the rest of the small room. He may have realized in advance that her office was also her bedroom, or perhaps he didn't care, because he just glanced over the personal area of her room and dropped his attention fully onto her. The turian still seemed hesitant to be here, but carefully lowered his armoured bulk into the soft leather sofa.

She didn't bother wondering why he wore his armor everywhere. Trying to imagine Garrus without that armor was likely to cause her brain to implode over such an impossibility.

"So, what have you got?" Shepard prompted when he sat down, and she noticed he was holding a datafile.

"I told you I was going to look into the situation on Korlus," Garrus reminded her, and she nodded. He passed the datafile over to her. "This is the cargo manifest of a freighter that dropped supplies there about two months ago. Everyone I spoke to said the only thing Blue Suns are doing on Korlus is testing advanced munitions on downed ship fossils. But nothing on that manifest matches that kind of work."

Shepard ran her eyes over it eagerly, and felt her eyebrows crawl upwards in surprise. "Well, that's for damned sure. Cloning tanks, laboratory equipment... This has to be for Okeer, but what the hell is he doing down there?"

Garrus cleared his throat carefully. "Take a close look at the dimensions on those tanks, Shepard."

She did so, and drew in a sharp hissing breath. Her concerned gaze darted up to his, and Garrus nodded confirmation.

"Too big for most species, but just right for a krogan, yeah," Garrus stated grimly. "Korlus has a lot of krogan outposts, so if they're running experiments for a genophage cure, they'd have plenty of test subjects – willing or not. None of the other merc groups on Korlus have any clue what the Blue Suns are doing... but whatever the involvement between Okeer and Blue Suns, there's some pretty high tech involved. Expensive tech," he added significantly.

"So who's funding the experiments?" Shepard wondered aloud, tapping her fingernail against the edge of the datafile she held. Garrus gave a helpless shrug, but she hadn't expected anything else. Merc gangs were sloppy in some areas, but they usually managed to keep their financial trails pretty closely guarded to protect their investors. "I'll show this to Mordin and see if he there's anything he can make of the equipment. Cloning krogans can't possibly cure the genophage, there's got to be more to this."

Garrus leaned back in his seat, shifting his long, three-toed feet out awkwardly. "I think you should bring Mordin on the mission too," he suggested diffidently.

Shepard figured he was still uncertain as to his role here. "I agree, nobody else on the crew would have the technological know-how to recognise something out of the ordinary here," she replied and saw him relax subtly. It would take time for him to grow comfortable. He had played vigilante leader, but that was still a vastly different role to what she was asking of him here. "Thanks for digging this up, Garrus."

To her surprise, he grimaced, his mandibles shifting tightly against his jaw. "I'm sorry I couldn't find anything more informative than that. I may have been overly critical of Cerberus' failure to get any good intel on this situation. But I did find out a little bit more on Okeer, before he vanished off the galactic radar."

Intrigued, Shepard gestured for him to share. Garrus' flanging voice filled her room, softly overlaying the background hum of the empty fish tank. "As you know, he earned his reputation as a warlord in the Krogan Rebellions. He was allied with Shiagur, one of their female warlords, and was allegedly on Canrum when the turian military defeated her. Many of their males undertook missions of vengeance against the turians who destroyed Shiagur, but there's no indication that Okeer was one of them. It seems he turned his attention to destroying the genophage, and restoring krogan fertility.

Since the end of the Krogan Rebellions, he's been involved in one attempt after another to do just that. He's allied with scientific research groups from all over the galaxy, apparently so that he could learn enough medical science to save his people from the genophage. I guess with a few hundred years to work at it, even a krogan can become a scientist," he reflected sardonically. Garrus offered her another datafile. "In case you're interested, that's all the detail I dug up on Okeer. None of it tells me if he's on Korlus willingly or not, but chances are he is. If Blue Suns could provide him with this kind of expensive tech to conduct his research... there's nothing he wouldn't do. He's obsessed, Shepard."

"Great," she muttered. "And we want him to join a team with a turian _and _a salarian. What do you think our chances are?"

Garrus tilted his head thoughtfully. "One in a thousand?" he offered, but his mandibles were angling in that way she'd learned meant humor.

Shepard found herself laughing softly at that, and if it sounded just a bit bitter, well, too bad. "Yeah, that sounds about right. I can't offer him any way to help the krogan..." She paused uncomfortably. "And I wouldn't even if I could. Restoration of the krogan birth rates would unsettle the galaxy right at the time we need to focus it on the Reaper threat. But the Illusive Man says Okeer's had contact with the Collectors... if that's the case, he may understand the threat they pose to everyone. Krogans included."

"Perhaps," Garrus said in his low drawl. "We'll have to play it by ear. See what turns up."

Shepard sighed, laying the datafiles on the low coffee table. "I agree. I'd rather not lock us into a specific plan of attack with so little information. I'm confident Mordin can improvise once we're on planet."

Garrus nodded, catching her eyes deliberately. He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated for a long moment. "...Shepard...," he began eventually. "I wanted to say... Thank you for listening to me earlier. About Sidonis. And for not ... pushing."

He was a big bundle of awkward turian, and it was kind of adorable in a rather pathetic way. Shepard couldn't help but smile as he struggled to convey a sentiment he was entirely uncomfortable even admitting existed. "Anytime, Garrus. That's what friends do."

He still looked puzzled and unsure, but oddly determined. "Friends... Yes. I'm not going to lie to you, Shepard. I _will_ find Sidonis, and I _will _kill him for what he did to my team. But this mission... what we're doing here, and what you've asked of me... that will always come first. I want you to know that I have my priorities clear on this."

She shouldn't be so surprised that he'd guessed her concerns. But she was, and whether that spoke poorly of herself or of Garrus, she couldn't quite say. Shepard looked away briefly, the azure glow of the fish tank inevitably drawing her eye. "Thank you, Garrus. When you find Sidonis, when the time comes... I'll be there if you need me to watch your back."

Shepard was almost holding her breath, watching him out of the corner of her eye. Because while the offer she was making was genuine, it was also a little underhanded. She would always have his back if he needed it, that was an unquestionable fact of the universe. But her offer was made more in the hope that if he accepted, she might be able to persuade him away from seeking vengeance so brutally. It would change him irrevocably, if he did what he intended, and Shepard wasn't ready to see that happen. If she were there when he went after Sidonis, she'd be able to... do something, talk him out of it maybe, or if worse came to worst, take Sidonis out herself. Garrus would never forgive her, but at least he wouldn't be the one to have done it.

The light of the fish tank was the exact shade of his visor. It danced and played across the frame of the visor, catching the highlights of the blue clan markings on his face. Garrus seemed to be studying her as he considered her words. Weighing his options, making his choice. Under such a direct gaze, she wanted to fidget, but forced herself to maintain as calm an appearance as she could. After a long moment, the turian nodded.

"I appreciate that, Shepard. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather take with me."

Under his warm gaze, Shepard felt a tiny trickle of guilt. Was it wrong to insinuate herself into his personal business under the guise of helping him, when really she was trying to... well, help him, but not in the way he'd want? The moral aspects of the issue were too much and Shepard pushed the issue aside. What would be, would be. She might piss him off mightily before this was all over, but she had to follow her instincts on this one.

"I'd better go now. We'll be arriving at Korlus in a few hours and I want to be ready," Garrus announced, smoothly rising from the seat. Shepard followed suit, pausing at the base of the stairs by the fish tank, as he ascended them and moved towards the door.

"Hey Garrus?" He turned in the doorway and looked back at her curiously. "Thanks again for the intel."

He threw her that smug turian smile. "That's what you're paying me for, Shepard," he reminded her and stepped through the door. It closed behind him on a smiling Shepard, who then turned back to her private terminal.

She had no idea what they'd find down there, but an obsessed krogan 'doctor' building an army of cloned krogans on the recycling centre of the galaxy was seeming the most likely possibility at this point. And Shepard had absolutely no clue how she'd manage to talk him into joining her team.


	5. Chapter 4: Horizon

A/N - I simply couldn't force myself to skip over the details of the Horizon mission, so this chapter is long and heavy on in-game content. The next chapter will be entirely original content to make up for it. :) Thanks to all those fans who've uploaded their own in-game footage to YouTube, and everyone who's added to the Mass Effect wiki, as they have been wonderful resources in writing this fic.

Again, much love to my awesome beta, Hatteress. Thanks to those who continue reading and especially to those who leave reviews - constructive criticism always welcomed! I might even take requests ;)

* * *

Garrus turned away from the main battery's primary console when he heard the doors slide open behind him. He wasn't particularly surprised to see Commander Shepard standing there – nobody else ever came to visit him, after all – but he _was_startled by the visible tension in her demeanour. A second quick appraisal reinforced his immediate impression that something had sprung loose, and Garrus turned to face her directly.

"What's happened?" he demanded immediately. Shepard ran a hand through her hair and ended the gesture with a flick of her fingers towards the control panel behind him. Discerning her meaning, Garrus reached behind him to close the doors to the main battery, locking them into isolation and privacy from any Cerberus bugs planted outside the room.

Immediately, she began pacing and talking, both rather quickly. "The Illusive Man has been in touch. One of the human colonies in the Terminus System, a place called Horizon, has just gone dark. We're en route there now... if we're damned lucky, we might get there before they finish the attack, maybe early enough to save the colonists... maybe early enough to get some decent information on these Collector bastards. I've just come from Mordin's lab... he's worked out a way to keep us safe from the seeker swarms, but he's only tested it under laboratory conditions. So we have no idea how well it's going to work in the field, but it's better than nothing." Shepard paused in her pacing, spun on one heel and looked at him with a rather cranky expression. "And Kaidan Alenko was apparently on Horizon for some mysterious reason that the Alliance are spinning some bullshit feel-good cover story for."

Garrus watched her cross her arms and glare at him upon conclusion of her explanation, and he blinked slowly. And then again. Trying for a moment to take it all in, along with Shepard's unexpectedly bad mood about the entire situation... although he rather suspected that might have more to do with Alenko's inclusion that anything else.

"Well," he drawled slowly, trying to give himself a bit more time to absorb it all. "I wasn't expecting _any_ of that. Damn."

Shepard gave a sharp, hissing exhalation and dropped herself down abruptly onto the crate stacked against the far wall of the room. The part of him that had been paying more attention to her behaviour lately took note of the way she sat like a human man. Shepard had always struck him as... well, not masculine exactly, but certainly not feminine. She avoided the coy, mincing steps of the females of her species. She sure didn't have the willowy, long-legged grace of a turian female, nor the rampant sensuality of an asari. She hit his radar as something unique: the Commander. The Spectre. Shepard. And it was entirely not like her to be this concerned.

Garrus decided to stick to the pragmatic approach. "How long until we hit Horizon?"

Shepard leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "About another four hours. Long enough for Mordin to manufacture his armor upgrades. He wants to know who'll need it, other than you and I." She managed a wry grin for that. Mordin had been with them longer than Jack or Grunt; clearly long enough to have caught on that Garrus was taken for granted as a member of all missions.

The turian gave a low chuckle. "Have you got anyone in mind?"

"Yeah. I want Jack."

Surprise flared his mandibles out before Garrus could control his reaction. "Shepard, are you sure about that? Jack is... unstable at best." No, it wasn't only his personal dislike of criminals that made Garrus sceptical of the powerful biotic. Despite Jack's isolative nature, he'd managed to observe her on the few times she emerged from the lower decks to collect food or other supplies. She was aggressive, territorial, savage, crude, and violently insecure. She was a criminal, but he couldn't entirely bring himself to condemn her for that, given her history. The fact that she'd stuck around, and hadn't jumped ship the first chance she had might have had something to do with that sentiment.

"Unstable is the nicest thing I could say about her. But I want a biotic down there with us," Shepard informed him bluntly. "I have no idea what the Collectors will throw at us, and I want our skill set well balanced to take on anything we might encounter."

"Hmm," Garrus rumbled softly, eying her thoughtfully. "Why not Miranda?" He'd thought Lawson and the Commander were coming to negotiate some kind of truce over the past few weeks. There'd been less bickering, more agreement, and his surreptitious observation of Miranda had even caught her studying Shepard respectfully once or twice. Okay, just once, but it was still an improvement.

The Commander answered him honestly. "I've seen Miranda in action, and she's good. But I've never seen anyone in Jack's ballpark. She's the nuclear weapon of biotics, and I plan on taking all of my big guns on this one. Besides... I have to try her out in the field eventually."

"Nothing like a trial by fire to see if she can cut it, I suppose," the turian reflected with a thread of dark humour running through his flanging voice. He caught the responding gleam in her eyes and knew they were on the same page. "Alright, if you think she can keep it together, I'll back your call."

Shepard flicked him a quick grin that didn't do much to hide the tension he could still see in her.

Garrus hesitated. "And Alenko?"

He was intrigued to see the tension in her notch up a few levels. She stood up restlessly and went back to the pacing. "It's too much of a coincidence that they hit the one human colony he happens to be on, Garrus. I'm playing blind here, and it's starting to piss me off. If they knew that much about me, and my crew, that they can deliberately target..." Shepard trailed off in frustration, and shook her head in sharp dismissal of the useless fretting. "Hell if I know what they're up to. I guess we'll find out once we hit Horizon."

It wasn't exactly answering the question he'd been asking. Garrus wasn't an idiot, and even if he had been, he also wasn't blind. The closeness between Shepard and Alenko had been visible to anyone who paid even a modicum of attention to them. He'd been on enough missions with the two of them to take note of the blazing neon sign flashing out _'look here for two humans engaging in elaborate pre-mating rituals!'_ And even if Garrus had somehow missed all of that two years ago, he _hadn't _missed the photograph of Alenko on her desk. It was a surprisingly sentimental gesture on Shepard's part. Not knowing what to say, Garrus let the topic of Alenko pass by and pushed himself away from the console.

"Sounds like it's time for me to turn my armor over to Mordin for his upgrades. I'll drop yours and Jack's into the lab as well," the turian advised, ignoring her expression of surprise.

But she didn't protest. "Thanks. I'll be in the armory with Jacob, I want to see how he's going with the upgrades to our heavy weapons. We're going to need to pack one hell of a punch down there."

"Shouldn't be a problem, Shepard," Garrus drawled, tapping at the controls to open the door. "As long as the seeker swarms don't get through and paralyse us instantly, of course."

Shepard shot him a look as she stepped through the doors before him. "You're just a fountain of optimism, Garrus," the Commander muttered under her breath.

"I aim to please," he purred back at her.

* * *

There was something eerie about Horizon that made itself known the instant they made planetfall on the southern limits of the colony. There was an oppressive feeling to the place that Garrus could easily blame on the monolithic Collector ship rising up out of the centre of the human colony. It was a thing of nightmares – _his_ nightmares, specifically – because the last time he'd seen something like that had been a half second before it fired the blast that killed the old Normandy. And Shepard.

Garrus swallowed heavily and shouldered his rifle more firmly. The leviathan vessel rose like a monstrous tower above them; a thing of sharp metallic lines consumed by hulking organic outcroppings. Hell, that a thing that big could land...

"Experimental technology!" Mordin's voice was babbling excitedly over his comm unit, in response to Shepard's query on the new armor upgrades. "Only test is contact with seeker swarms. Look forward to seeing if you survive!"

Garrus grimaced, and caught sight of Shepard doing the same. Jack was muttering something under her breath and from the shape her lips were making, she wasn't saying anything suitable for polite company. Shepard lifted her free hand in the 'move out' signal and they fell in behind her.

Despite his uncertainty about Jack's inclusion, Garrus was pleased to see that she fell into position easily and silently; she maintained a constant visual scan of their surroundings as they moved towards the colony, and her weapon was up and trained on anything that moved. The biotic followed Shepard's silent commands, taking cover when indicated and covering either the Commander or Garrus in turn. The vague anxiety twisting in his stomach settled into growing confidence as they negotiated their way through the southern outskirts of the colony. The colony itself was clearly a new settlement; mostly one or two-story prefab buildings linked by courtyards or covered walkways. Much of the space between the buildings was unpaved grass, and this far out from the centre of the colony, the majority of buildings were warehouses, rather than residential.

It wasn't long before Garrus' sharper hearing caught the first high-pitched buzz of the seeker swarm. His sudden tension alerted Shepard and all three of them froze, eyes intent on the seeker swarm. The alien bugs weren't moving with any kind of purpose, just flying in a haphazard formation that happened to be bringing them closer. Garrus tightened his finger on the trigger of his rifle, a hair's breadth from pulling it as he aimed directly at the closest bug. His visor narrowed the scope in on the little bastard and he waited. If those things got close enough to sting one of them successfully, they were pulling out and the damned colonists – and Alenko – could fend for themselves. He wasn't risking Shepard to the Collectors again, if they were _that_badly outgunned.

Shepard's insistent 'hold' signal kept his finger from squeezing the trigger, but _damn_, did he want to_._Garrus ground his sharp teeth together and waited. Waited, watching them come closer. Jack was first in line, and she seemed to face the challenge of it easily enough. The tattooed biotic stood her ground defiantly, chin lifted in stubborn challenge to the swarm. Of course, with her biotic strength, it was entirely possible she might be able to just obliterate them with a thought, but all the same... Garrus had to give her points for style.

When the swarm drifted past her without anything exciting happening, all three of them relaxed. Shepard shot him a fierce grin of triumph, and in his peripheral vision, he saw Jack snarling in what was apparently her version of a 'happy face.' Then the Commander gave the signal to move out, and they were falling back into a staggered formation, heading deeper into the colony.

They didn't see any colonists for a long time, although there were signs of a hasty evacuation. No doubt, as soon as that monster had hit atmosphere, everyone had fled to a central meeting point... making them that much easier to round up. It was one of the more nerve-wracking missions Garrus had been on in a while... stalking silently through a deserted colony, knowing the enemy was around _somewhere_ but not knowing where, or anything about them, or even if you could kill them when you found them.

"All these empty buildings," he muttered softly over the radio. "It's unsettling."

From the tense lines of Shepard's shoulders, he guessed she felt the same. Perhaps it was worse, since it was one of her own peoples' colonies. Although Jack was human and she didn't seem too bothered by it. One of the advantages of being a certified psychopath. Garrus gripped his rifle tighter and kept scanning restlessly through the scope as they moved.

The first encounter – when it came – was hard, fast and brutal. Garrus was firing before he even realized he'd spotted movement, spreading out in the opposite direction to provide crossfire. It was odd how the mind worked in battle. His entire focus was dedicated to the moment, each moment as it came; but throughout the entire skirmish, his brain continued to record details from his peripheral awareness. Even as he was sniping out the enemy, some part of his mind was taking note of the fact that these were some of the most alien creatures he'd ever seen... identifying them as _Collectors_, the faithful servants of the Reapers. A sudden wave of biotic energy ran down the centre of his and Shepard's crossfire, Jack's bright blue explosions obliterating the handful of Collectors in its path.

For all the sudden savagery, the skirmish was only brief; breathing sharply, Garrus moved swiftly to Shepard and Jack as the last Collector fell beneath his last round. Shepard gave him a nod; Jack actually smiled at him.

"Peaceful," the biotic murmured blissfully, looking down at a dead Collector a few feet away. "Usually takes a lot of chemicals for me to get this quiet."

Shepard gave the familiar, swift sweeping glance that analysed the state of her team, before she moved them back into position and on their way. They'd taken barely a dozen steps when Joker's voice crackled sharply over their radio, broken and interspersed with long pauses of static white noise. "Comman... -tting all kinds... –ference... We can't maintai-..."

"The Collectors are disrupting communications," Garrus deduced grimly, guessing one of the dead aliens had gotten off a warning to their base before being shot down.

"We're on our own now," Shepard sighed, and they continued on.

After that quick, adrenaline-spiking explosion of violent combat, their long passage of eerily silent progress through the empty colony seemed even longer. The desolation of the place was a like a weight that pressed down on them, sending uneasy prickles of tension along Garrus' spine. Jack made a sharp gesture as she took point coming around a corner, and he and Shepard were at her side in an instant. They had perhaps a few seconds to take in the scene they had inadvertently come across, but it was a handful of heartbeats Garrus could cheerfully have done without.

They'd found their first colonists. These humans had obviously fallen victim to the seeker swarms, for they were frozen in mid-step, trapped into stillness in the act of fleeing their attackers. Crowded around them were a half-dozen Collectors, in the process of retrieving them. There was something so obscene about the image of those poor colonists, immobilised into vulnerability, while the alien creatures shifted and carted them about like so much... cargo. It was almost a relief when the Collectors spotted them and the firing started.

Until, that is, a new breed of creature appeared alongside the remaining Collectors. Compared to the heavy, chitinous forms of the Collectors, these things were slender and almost emaciated. Long strands of glowing blue cybernetics threaded through their grey flesh in a manner that was horrifically familiar.

"These things look like the husks the geth used on Eden Prime," Shepard snarled into her comm, as she fired savagely into one. It jerked away and fell to the ground, to be finished off with another shot to the head.

"I thought the geths got that technology from Sovereign," Garrus answered as he leaped to the top of a pile of crates. He popped out the steaming heat sink from his rifle, jacking in a new one as he hunkered down into a perfect sniping position. The turian zeroed his scope in on the first of the approaching husks; they were already making a beeline for Shepard. Garrus snarled softly and squeezed the trigger; a husk which had been racing mindlessly towards the Commander's exposed back drop to the ground, damn near ripped in half by the armor piercing ammo he still had loaded into his rifle.

"Then your Illusive Man was right. The Collectors must work for the Reapers." In the corner of his vision, he saw Jack fire point blank into a husk's face with her pistol, then snap her free hand up to slam a wave of biotic energy at the last of the Collectors. Her usual exultant snarl was firmly in place, but as Shepard sighted and fired on a handful of husks closing in on her, Garrus' subconscious tripped over an anomaly. Long-sharpened instincts narrowed in on it immediately and his rifle was pointing in her direction, his bright blue eyes scanning through the scope to identify what threat existed that had caught his attention. He fired automatically at two husks and only belatedly realized they were the last two. Silence filled the air, heavy and suffocating after the rapid bursts of gunfire and Jack's ecstatic battle cries.

The turian was puzzled as he stood up, dropping his rifle by his side. Whatever had triggered his alarm had gone. Still slightly perplexed, Garrus swung over the crates and dropped lightly to the ground, scanning the area. Definitely nothing alive left here except the three of them.

Shepard was standing over the fallen form of one of the odd husks, her face unusually blank as he and Jack joined her. Jack lost her peaceful expression as she stared down at the husk.

"That thing was fucking human once. Is it one of those poor bastards?" Jack demanded, jerking her head to the frozen colonists they'd just inadvertently rescued.

Shepard remained oddly silent, and things clicked into place in Garrus' brain with a sudden blinding flash of awful understanding. _Shepard was freaked out by husks._ The oddity he had subconsciously noted which triggered Garrus' hyperalert state a few moments earlier was nothing more than Shepard's own _fear_ of the husks, observed in some change of her manner and behaviour... an unexplained tension in his Commander.

And it was new. Nobody liked husks, but Shepard had always just mowed them down and kept on trucking. This was different, new since her return, and he didn't know why. That made him nervous, so Garrus leaped into the silence with his mouth already talking before his brain had quite caught up. "No. The geth impaled their victims on giant spikes to turn them into husks... but we haven't seen any. The Collectors must have already had the husks. They want the colonists alive for... something else."

Jack looked mildly interested by that, which made him feel slightly ill. Shepard just looked grim.

"These aren't the same creatures I found on Eden Prime," she stated softly. "They're more advanced. Evolved."

"We can still kill them," Garrus answered, just as softly. She met his eyes briefly, and Garrus knew that whatever it was about the husks that unnerved her, she'd deal with it. A quirk at the corner of her mouth was almost a faint smile - he'd take what he could get.

She straightened her shoulders and hefted her gun determinedly. "The Collectors aren't getting away with more victims. Let's move out." Her voice held the same steely determination that had let her take out Sovereign, and Garrus felt his tension bleed away in response. He and Jack fell in, slightly behind and to either side of her. Garrus didn't pay any attention to the fact that he ended up on her left side. None of the other crew questioned it anymore, and he'd long since stopped realizing he always covered Shepard's weaker side. She was right-handed, and her responses with her left hand were always a fraction of a heart beat slower. He'd picked that up years ago, and it had become habit to cover that side, long before their reunion on Omega.

They passed another collection of frozen colonists, and were now into what appeared to be a semi-residential area of the colony. Shepard stopped only for a moment, pausing to pick up what appeared to be a Collector weapon while Jack and Garrus covered her. She said nothing, but the sharp look she shot him as she clipped the weapon to her back was more than enough. He nodded back in grim approval of the scavenging, and they moved on, with the turian taking the lead this time.

He rounded a corner and saw movement above him. Garrus snapped into hyper-alertness as he recognised Collector forms mid-air. Spirits! The damned things could fly.

"Incoming!" he warned, already darting across the open, grassy courtyard to crouch behind a retaining wall. He could see Jack moving in the other direction, and wasn't surprised when Shepard took the middle point. The things were more like insects than ever, translucent wings vibrating as their armoured forms lowered to the ground. They outnumbered the Cerberus crew perhaps three to one, but at least there were no husks this time. Shepard and Jack were already firing before the first one touched ground; meanwhile Garrus went hunting for height to get a good vantage point. It didn't take long. The colonists' evacuation had obviously been frantic and sudden, knocking over crates that should probably have been carefully stacked. He found a good spot and joined the fight, the HUD on his visor narrowing in on first one then another of the enemy figures. Gloved talons squeezed in quick succession on the trigger of his rifle, and the turian watched in satisfaction as a Collector fell under his fire. "One less to worry about," he exulted softly, forgetting for a moment that the radio was live. At least, until he heard Shepard's sharp bark of laughter.

The Collectors kept coming, and he was starting to worry until he saw Shepard advance to a new piece of cover. Garrus moved forward in response, as Jack covered him, taking up a new position deeper into the courtyard. With smooth, well-coordinated steps, the three of them advanced into the face of the Collector attack. When it worked well; when you had a team who knew what they were doing, a firefight could be like a dance. It had been that way with his team on Omega, once they'd meshed into a real unit. It had always been that way with him and Shepard. Now, Garrus felt all his objections to Jack melting away as the three of them coalesced into a single unit. The Collectors fought like drones, automatons who lacked the ability to react to their collaboration. Each one fought alone, and even though they outnumbered the Cerberus crew, Garrus was still feeling pretty confident that they'd get through this okay.

Except then something changed. One of the Collectors that had just stumbled and fallen to its knees under a burst of Jack's biotic attack staggered back. Its shoulders jerked, as though under gunfire, but nobody was aiming at it. Garrus risked a heartbeat to divert his attention from the ongoing firefight, his visor zooming in on the shuddering figure. What he saw froze his heart for a second in sheer dread.

The Collector trooper was ripped off its feet, breaking apart; its armoured form cracking and peeling under some unseen force. Garrus felt his stomach turn in revulsion as he watched a glowing flash of magma-like veins filling the spaces of the mutated Collector. It staggered back to its feet and with sudden alarm, Garrus watched it unerringly pinpoint Shepard.

And then, it spoke.

"**We are the Harbinger of your perfection."**

The words scraped through his eardrums, as though the voice resonated at a frequency different to anything he'd ever encountered. He saw Shepard turn to catch sight of the distorted Collector, bringing her gun up, but it was already in point-blank range. Jack was occupied with another trooper, so Garrus brought his rifle up sharply, squeezing off a few rounds at the alien thing.

It slowed but didn't stop. Shepard was backing away, seeking cover, but not fast enough. Some kind of biotic pulse erupted from the thing, and he watched it break through her shields. Watched her stagger back, disoriented by the attack.

The alarm pulsing about in his head threatened to break out into full-blown panic, as Garrus jacked in a new heat sink and fired round after round of concussive shots at the thing. He wanted to stop, maybe change ammo to something that could do a little more damage, but he didn't dare pause in his barrage. The turian could see the thing stumbling back under the rounds, its barriers dimming with each impact, and now Shepard was far enough away to join in. Together, they fired relentlessly into the thing, until it staggered and fell.

It spoke again.

"**You only damage the vessel. You cannot hurt me."**

Again, the words were like knives inside his skull. It took a moment for their meaning to penetrate and Garrus found himself numbly watching the distorted Collector crumple into death. Shepard and Jack were still as well; for a moment, there was silence over the battlefield. To one side, Shepard straightened slowly, and met his eyes. He could read in her the same horror he felt clenching his insides, and saw it blossom into fullness as that voice resonated across the courtyard again, from another direction.

**"Assuming control of this form."**

Another Collector rose, staggering into the air; its body ripping and tearing in the grip of that same terrible, unseen force. The lines of magma grew between the torn-apart pieces of it, binding it into the same agonising possession; its face was a blur of orange brilliance. The recognition of what they were seeing penetrated Garrus' shocked awareness, as the thing turned unerringly towards Shepard.

Something... else... and his brain shouted _REAPER_ with instinctive insistence... was possessing the Collectors. Just like Sovereign had possessed Saren.

And it wanted Shepard.

_Not this time,_ Garrus snarled silently, and his rifle was in his hands and firing before the thing had even touched its feet to the ground again. Shepard's rifle fire sounded alongside his, and a savage blast of blue biotic energy ripped the thing from the ground as Jack joined in. The three of them tore its barriers apart, and as it was lurching backwards under their combined assault, Shepard shouted over the radio, "take out the others. Don't leave anything for it to control once I kill this thing."

Habit was too well established. Despite his reluctance to break off when that thing was still capable of movement, Garrus swung his rifle around and scoped out another Collector. Jack's biotic blast knocked one off its feet, and then slammed it ferociously into a wall. Through the scope, he saw his own target fall. The turian swung his rifle back towards Shepard's attacker, but it was falling beneath her deliberate combination of gunfire and biotic blasts. Garrus kept his rifle at the ready, talon pressing hungrily against the trigger... just in case... but she had it under control.

**"This changes nothing, Shepard."**

The sound ate away at his hearing like violent metallic bugs, and Garrus felt bile rise at the back of his throat. After that, nothing could have stopped him from firing, but the concussive shot he squeezed off savagely was just an afterthought in the end. The thing... the Collector... had already fallen to Shepard's gun by the time his shot impacted, and its death was clear in the sprawl of its unmoving limbs and blank alien eyes.

Shepard lowered her weapon and turned to look at him. The turian emerged into the clearing, as Jack approached from the other direction. But the Commander didn't say anything; she didn't need to. Or maybe she didn't know what to say.

"It knows your name." That was all Garrus could get out, the flanging quality of his voice emphasised by his tension. The turian felt his free hand curling into a fist, the talons pressing against the reinforced material of his gloves as if they wanted to dig through them.

"What do you know, I have a reputation," Shepard retorted drily. Jack snorted in amusement, but Garrus wasn't buying it. The look in her eyes matched what he knew was in his; vaguely haunted, deeply disturbed. He watched her push it down, and knew he couldn't do the same as easily. This was too damn close to his nightmare to shrug it aside that smoothly.

"So what the hell was that thing?" Jack demanded.

Garrus' gaze was steady on his silent Commander as he provided the answer she couldn't articulate. "A Reaper."

Jack gave a low, impressed whistle and glanced around hopefully, no doubt itching for the next fight. Garrus knew Shepard wanted him to let it go, and he knew there was nothing she could say anyway; certainly not out here in hostile territory. The best he could do was follow her orders and hope like hell that he could get that thing under his scope in its real form, and take it down for good. Preferably before it split Shepard open like an overripe melon.

Shepard met his eyes and nodded approval at whatever she saw there. "Let's move out. We still have a job to do here," she said firmly, scanning their immediate surroundings deliberately before moving out. Garrus grimaced and fell in at her left; Jack mimicked him on the right.

They moved even more cautiously now, and this time, they scanned the sky as well as their surroundings. There were no more Collectors, but they used every bit of cover available to them, staying under covered walkways, and keeping out of aerial view as well as line of sight from the ground. They couldn't afford anymore incidental fire fights. The Collector ship loomed above them wherever they went. Its presence was a silent reminder of the danger, and of the fact that this wasn't just any ordinary mission. These were the things that destroyed the Normandy. That ship was the same as the one that killed Shepard; the thing that haunted his nightmares. Garrus could feel his spine itching, shoulders stiff and tense against that towering reminder of what they were up against. He refused to let himself think about failure. Whatever happened, this thing would _not_ kill Shepard again. Even if they lost all the colonists, he would still count it a win if they managed to get Shepard out of here alive.

Shepard held them up for a moment as they approached a more open area. She eyed a larger, blocky building that seemed to be some sort of garage, and probably offered a more concealed path than the open courtyard.

"Through there," Shepard decided, gesturing to the wide, closed doors. Garrus' fingers twitched against the familiar weight of his rifle as he covered her while Shepard hacked the door controls. Jack waited to take out anything lurking within, pistol in one hand and the other glowing an eager blue.

The interior of the structure was dim and silent. The three of them moved in cautiously, their vision adjusting slowly after the bright midday sunlight outside. It was almost chilly in comparison to the balmy heat. Garrus saw Shepard jerk her head up, turning sharply to face a darkened section of the garage.

"Company," she muttered, weapon at the ready. Garrus had to make a deliberate effort not to target and fire instantly, and that alone told him how on edge he was. He kept a careful grip on his rifle, as Shepard made a sharp gesture to the shadowy form hiding in a corner. "Get out here. Now."

The figure emerged nervously; a human male. He had the rough look of a colonist, and the shell-shocked gaze of someone who'd been through hell. Garrus took the time to survey the garage carefully, and only half-listened in as the man identified himself as a mechanic named Delan, and defensively explained how he had sealed himself into the building to stay safe from the swarms. He heard Shepard pull out her 'soothing voice' as she tried to calm him down enough to get some decent intel out of the man.

Garrus lowered his rifle slowly and took the moment to try to calm the adrenaline surging in his system. The mission had thrown him for a loop... or rather, the Reaper had. Finding out that there was one, and it could possess or control Collector drones... _any_ Collector drones, apparently... Oh yeah, and it was gunning for Shepard. Getting the personal attention of a Reaper struck him as a _very bad thing._ The real problem was that he didn't have a clue how they were going to retrieve the colonists, or destroy the Collector ship. And now Garrus had started to worry about his ability to keep Shepard alive on this planet.

"... it's the Alliance's fault! They stationed that Commander Alenko here and built those defence towers. It made us a target!"

Delan's ranting broke sharply in on his mental review of the situation, and Garrus snapped his head sharply towards the man. Shepard had done the same; beneath the dual gaze of Shepard and Garrus, Delan faltered swiftly into silence.

"Tell me about the Colony defence towers," Shepard said sharply.

"A _gift _from the Alliance," the mechanic replied bitterly. "High powered GARDIAN Lasers, supposed to keep hostile ships from landing near the colony... They had to build a massive underground generator just to give it enough juice. Only we couldn't get the targeting systems online... So the Alliance gave us a giant gun that couldn't shoot straight." Delan grimaced. "Stupid sons of bitches."

Shepard shifted eagerly. "If you have defences, we can use them against the Collector ship."

"You'd need to calibrate the targeting system first," Delan protested. "It's never worked right!"

Garrus felt his patience begin to waver. "One of us should be able to figure it out. We just need the location," he urged, using his own version of a calm voice; the one he'd perfected when questioning witnesses and bystanders during his time on C-Sec.

The turian watched Delan hesitate a little longer, but whether he eventually decided the three of them could handle themselves, or they were suicidal and not really his problem, Garrus wasn't sure. Either way, the mechanic shrugged his shoulders and answered slowly. "Head for the main transmitter on the other side of the colony... it's pretty hard to miss. The targeting controls are at the base."

Garrus bit back a fierce grin. _Big guns. A set of really big guns and a Collector ship in the scope. This day is looking up_, he decided. He listened in without surprise as Shepard grilled Delan on Alenko's presence here. The mechanic's colonial paranoia came through strong and clear, but Shepard's questions underscored the glaring anomaly of the planet Horizon, and probably answered the question of why the Collectors had come here, specifically.

It just didn't make sense for the Alliance to spend so much money and effort building a weapon like that out here in the middle of nowhere. The Alliance had responded to the attack on human colonies in the Terminus systems by tightening their security on colonial worlds in their more immediate vicinity. They weren't going to start worrying so much about breakaway colonies at the far edge of nowhere, to the point they'd gift them with expensive state-of-the-art weaponry... _and _a decorated war hero to babysit them.

_Alenko, what are you doing out here?_ Garrus found himself wondering, and could almost hear the echo of the thought from his Commander. He met her eyes briefly, and gave an uncertain shrug. The Alliance was definitely up to something out here, and the only one who could answer that was Kaidan Alenko himself.

Garrus watched Shepard grimace in frustration, and turn back to Delan. "It's probably just better if you stay out of the way," she directed.

The frightened mechanic agreed immediately, almost pushing them out the door in his eagerness to be rid of them. Garrus couldn't blame the poor bastard. He'd just seen his home ripped to pieces, and alien monsters cart off his friends. In his position... okay, truth be told, in his position, Garrus would be sniping the hell out of those sons of bitches, but Delan was just a civilian, and probably deserved some slack on that basis alone.

Shepard turned to him as Delan sealed the doors closed, locking them out of the garage. "Get up high and get me a direction, Garrus," she instructed, her gaze resting briefly on the visor covering his left eye. Garrus threw her a confident smirk in reply and darted off obediently.

A few moments later he was perched on the roof of a building, pressed flat against it to avoid creating a noticeable outline. Delan had been right in one respect; it wasn't hard to find the starport. The GARDIAN lasers were a distinctively militant outline against the prefab constructs of the colony buildings. The turian took a good directional reading with his omni-tool, then swiftly descended to Shepard.

"Ten clicks south-east," Garrus drawled happily. He knew the dangers this planet posed, and having a weapon in sight that could possibly take them down was fast restoring his faith in their potential success here.

"Lead the way, big guy," Shepard instructed.

* * *

They were surrounded by husks. Garrus hadn't even had time to get to a decent sniping position before they had been flanked by the damned things, and he was too busy fighting for his life – and his team's lives – to do more than react to each oncoming body. He and Shepard were back to back, keeping their exposed flanks protected. Jack had erupted into a snarling fury, sending burning blue shockwaves from her hands, screaming obscenities as she mowed down the repurposed corpses.

Getting to the Starport had been child's play. Shepard had elected to take the stealthy approach when they started spotting Collector patrols, which was probably the only way they'd gotten this close. They'd fought through a handful of Collectors outside the entrance to the Starport, and barely made it inside before being overrun. Now, they were within sight of the main transmitter, and fighting wave after wave of husks to try to get to it.

"What the fuck is that thing?" Jack screamed above the gunfire. Garrus half-turned at the same moment as Shepard, and was struck still as he saw what had got Jack's attention.

It wasn't a husk... and yet it was. Or rather, it was like three husks grafted together, fused around a pulsating blue sack of organic matter. It had only two legs, and it moved in a sluggish, hulking manner... carrying the weight of three torsos on those two spindly legs apparently slowed it down. Garrus acted on auto-pilot, firing off a short burst at an approaching husk, as he struggled to comprehend what his eyes were seeing.

Then, quite suddenly, the thing was joined by another of its kind. The twin horrors moved towards them, even as Garrus' peripheral awareness caught Shepard taking out a husk that had gotten in close. He was about to turn back to help her, when one of the hulking monstrosities moved deliberately and a wash of blue fire struck out from it in violent speed. He could barely track it, but he caught Jack flying backwards under the assault all too well. She landed in a broken heap against a tumbled pile of crates, swearing weakly.

_Damn. Those things have biotics?_

He spun and met Shepard's eyes for a moment, looking for instruction. Garrus could read identical shock in her expression, but she was Commander for a reason. She didn't take time to react; she just responded to the new situation. Shock and surprise could be dealt with later, when they weren't about to be slaughtered.

He saw Shepard's gaze flick upwards, and Garrus was off instantly, racing for height and a good vantage point. He didn't like leaving her, with the husks around, but she could handle them. By the time he'd slid into position, Jack was also back on her feet... presumably thanks to a helpful injection of medi-gel. Or maybe just sheer determination. The girl had quads bigger than a krogan.

Garrus switched his ammo, and jacked in a new thermal clip, narrowing the scope in on the first of those monstrosities. Shepard and Jack were behind cover and focussing their fire on the other, but he didn't have time to check on how well they were doing.

The thing lumbered into his scope and Garrus narrowed his eyes deliberately. Exhaled. Squeezed the trigger and landed a round of armor-piercing ammo directly in the centre of its body. It jerked back viciously, but it wasn't enough. Garrus switched his target, moving up and to the right, focussing on that blue organic mass on its body. The thing didn't seem to have shields or barriers, but like the Collectors, its hard skin provided some protection from gunfire. The blue sack bled under his attack, but it didn't slow his target down. The turian found himself gritting his teeth in frustration as he selected a new spot to target... on the right 'shoulder' of the thing, where a husk head was fused on at a twisted angle.

He was about to fire, when a brilliant lightning-white stream of energy burned out part of his vision. Garrus saw the other monstrosity drop, and looked across the battlefield to see Shepard holding the Collector particle weapon she'd picked up, looking rather as surprised as he felt.

_Hell, why not. Use the bastards weapons against their own._

"One less to worry about," Shepard's voice sounded exuberantly in his ear, where the radio unit was embedded in his visor. Garrus found himself chuckling softly, startled into laughter, even as he fired deliberately onto the shoulder-head of the other alien.

A sustained burst of armor-piercing ammo had the thing jerking like a marionette on its strings, and when he relaxed his talon around the trigger, it fell to the ground in a heavy thump.

"All clear down here," Jack called into the echoing silence that followed.

Garrus gave himself a moment to slump against the crate in relief, closing his eyelids tightly and letting his brain blank for one long, blissful moment. These things weren't like fighting mercs, or soldiers, or anything that thought even remotely like themselves. It was more like Feros, coming across the thorians for the first time and diving headfirst into a nightmare of alien creatures they could never hope to comprehend.

Every time they turned around on this planet, they seemed to come across something even more horrific, more disturbing, more... evil.

Garrus pushed himself back to his feet and made his way back down to the other two. This section of the Starport was an open quad, filled with raised loading platforms, and scattered with piles of unloaded cargo, and a few trucks. The centre of the quad was a raised circular platform, with the transmitter pointing straight up at the sky in the middle of it. Shepard and Jack were already on the transmitter platform, and Shepard was busy hacking away at the transmitter controls by the time he reached them. Jack was leaning a bit too heavily on the control panel at the base of the transmitter, and Garrus shot her a hard look.

"Back off, blue. I'm fine, the bastard just winged me," Jack grumbled back at him, waving a hand at him in dismissal. Garrus smirked faintly in response; if she was well enough to bitch, she wasn't doing too badly. Instead, he turned his attention to Shepard, watching her carefully and deliberately hack her way through the transmitter security in order to break through the communications lockdown and establish a link with the Normandy. It was colonial level tech, but the Alliance – _Alenko_, he reminded himself – must have upgraded the security protocols to Alliance spec, because it still took her a few minutes.

Eventually, Shepard closed down her omni-tool and activated her radio hopefully. "Normandy. Do you copy?"

The response was immediate and relieved. "Joker here. Signal's weak, Commander, but we got you!"

"Time to show these things we give as good as we get," Shepard answered fiercely. "EDI... bring the defence towers online."

"Errors in the calibration software are easily rectified," EDI's synthetic voice replied. "But it will take time to bring the towers to full power. I recommend a defensive posture. I will not be able to mask the increased generator output."

Garrus bit back a tired groan; Jack didn't bother.

"We'll stop them," Shepard said confidently. "Easy enough."

If an AI could sound concerned, EDI managed it. "Maybe not. Enemy reinforcements closing in. I suggest you ready weapons."

Garrus felt the strain of the day's activities and the myriad minor injuries he'd taken weighing down on him. But a glance at Shepard brought his strength back almost immediately. Once EDI started, the Collectors would call in everything they had in the area... which undoubtedly meant Collectors, husks, more of those insane merged husk-things, and very probably something even worse. But Garrus knew for certainty that the Reaper would show its face again. Once it confirmed Shepard was here, it would take over every Collector it could to get a clear shot at her.

Tension was curling low in his stomach, as he surveyed the area and picked out a half-dozen decent vantage points he could work with. There was no real need to discuss strategy; the turian was already moving for his best position, even as Shepard and Jack found cover closer in to the transmitter base.

Then it was just a matter of waiting.

It took about a minute before the husks began lunging through the various entrances into the quad. Garrus steadied his grip on the rifle, took aim and began firing. Short, controlled bursts of fire, taking leg shots and body shots as much as possible. Jack was the first to spot the Collectors, following hard on the heels of the husks.

"Bypassing fail safes and attempting emergency power up," EDI announced over the radio. "Please hold the defence tower."

There were more Collectors than ever before, and they swarmed over Jack and Shepard immediately, forcing the two women to retreat to opposite sides of the quad. Garrus was firing almost continually, jacking in new thermal clips every few minutes and gritting his teeth in savage concentration. And that was where it started to go downhill again.

**"Direct intervention is necessary."**

_The Reaper_. Garrus' nerves were strung higher than ever before, adrenaline pounding through his system as he fought between keeping an eye on Shepard and taking out as many of the non-possessed Collectors as he could. He remembered Shepard's command from earlier. Take out the rest, and leave no body for the thing to inhabit. But what good would that do if its current host managed to get a good shot at Shepard?

His stomach took a sickening dive as he saw the Reaper-controlled Collector send a biotic wave racing towards Shepard, knocking her back off her feet. The enhanced image provided by his visor showed him Shepard staggering, clearly disoriented, and the Reaper advancing on her immediately.

"Shepard's hit!" he yelled at Jack, diverting his attacks immediately to the Reaper. The tattooed biotic amped up her own attacks, picking up the slack as he went to Shepard's aid.

**"If I must tear you apart, Shepard, I will."**

_Not on my watch._ Garrus fired on the Reaper... and fired and fired and fired, and didn't stop until his rifle was heating up under his grip and the Collector's body was disintegrating under his prolonged assault.

Shepard was back on her feet now, and behind cover. Jack had got the last of the other Collectors, meaning there was nothing around at the moment for the Reaper to inhabit again. The turian exhaled sharply, and absently switched his thermal clip again. He'd be running low soon, if this kept up much longer.

"Thanks, Garrus," Shepard said quietly over the radio. Even her voice sounded tired, and from his position, he could see her pumping herself full of medi-gel.

Garrus grimaced. "Get ready. Gotta be more soon."

As if his words were prophetic, they heard the high-pitched insectoid buzz of the flying Collectors. Their heavy bodies swooped to the ground, just as EDI announced that the anti-ship batteries were at 40%.

"Reinforcements," the turian muttered with a weary sort of sarcasm. "It's nice to be noticed."

Jack and Shepard were positioned close to the transmitter, and his angle was wrong from this position. Garrus had breached his cover and was heading for a secondary position, when the brain-scraping sound of the Reaper's voice consuming a Collector drone sounded again.

"Keep going, Garrus. I've got this one," Shepard advised, as she also left cover, heading away from the transmitter. As he slammed the butt of his rifle into a husk's head, Garrus couldn't work out what the hell she was doing. Jack was firing determinedly into any Collectors who got close to the transmitter, while the Reaper tracked Shepard towards the far end of the Starport.

Garrus swore softly as he found a new vantage point and surveyed the battlefield.

**"I am Harbinger. You will not stop me."**

She was luring it – the Reaper, this 'Harbinger' – away from the transmitter, knowing it was more interested in taking her out, than in saving its ship. It was a brutal move, damned near suicidal, and Garrus made a mental note to yell at her for it later on. Later, much later, after they'd all washed the mud and blood and grime of this Spirits-forsaken dirt ball off their bodies, and were safe and sound on the Normandy.

"GARDIAN anti-ship batteries at 60%. Syncing targeting protocols to Normandy's systems. Continue to protect the tower," EDI instructed calmly.

All he could do was divide his cover fire between Jack and Shepard. Jack was doing fairly well; he took out a few husks that had managed to flank her before she erupted into biotic meltdown and fried them all.

But Shepard... Harbinger had her on the run, diving behind cover and barely avoiding its aggressive biotic attacks. Garrus saw her stagger and fall behind a crate, watched Harbinger advance on her eagerly.

**"You will know pain, Shepard."**

Snarling a denial of that promise, Garrus stood up to get a clear shot and fired on the Reaper, exposing himself to the few Collectors still alive. He felt return fire from one of them take out his shields, but he didn't stop. He jerked under the impact of a second shot, but didn't stop until he spotted Shepard firing as well. Then Garrus dropped back down to his knees, behind cover, and watched his Commander fire the Collector weapon at the Reaper. It stumbled back with a vehement **"you cannot kill me, Shepard,"** before its second body disintegrated around it.

"GARDIAN anti-ship batteries at 100%. I have control."

EDI's announcement was like a blessing. Garrus found himself grinning in relief, surveying the corpse-strewn Starport in pleasure. Shepard was limping slightly as she made her way back towards the transmitter, but it didn't look like anything major.

Which Garrus knew was more good fortune than any of them deserved today.

The huge GARDIAN lasers powered up with a loud, metallic whine. They swivelled around to target the colossal alien ship. At first, Garrus assumed all he was hearing was the massive guns about to tear the life out of his enemies, and his heart hummed with satisfaction. A savage gleam burned in his eyes as he watched the turrets rise up to orient on the Collector vessel... except...

Except what was that strange, fast-moving speck heading unerringly towards them?

"Shepard..." he warned in alarm. "Enemies incoming."

Except it was only one. A single, alien entity that looked even more insectoid than the Collectors did, and even more horrifying than the fused-husks. It had a multitude of limbs that hung down from its massive frame and when it landed lightly in front of the transmitter, he could see that its panel of eyes were multi-faceted blue shells, lighting up from within as it swung its heavy, oversized head from side to side, tracking... looking for...

It hovered on Shepard and stopped. Of course. It seemed everything on this planet had a hard-on for killing Shepard.

Harbinger had made him feel helpless, hopeless in the face of something so godlike that wanted his commander dead... but this thing terrified him the second it started attacking. Those glowing blue eyes lit up, brighter and brighter like a blue star turning supernova, and then it erupted into azure lightning – twin jets of it screaming like fiery death, aimed directly at Shepard's heart. She dove to cover a half-second before it would have obliterated her, and Garrus stared in numb shock at the gaping, smoking hole where a loading dock had been a moment before.

_One shot from that thing, and she's dead_, he told himself silently. The thing rose up, as Shepard crawled around her minimal cover, but it didn't matter... it wouldn't matter where she took cover, because the uber-Collector would just hover over it and take an aerial shot.

Garrus exchanged a frantic glance with Jack and came to a swift decision. "Shepard, stay in cover. It wants you. Keep out of its line of sight," he commanded and jerked his head in Jack's direction. "We'll take it out."

Jack grinned back at him, looking more like a savage than ever. But that was what they needed right now, because this was nothing near the realms of civilized warfare. This was death incarnate, with Shepard's name on its lips.

"Firing anti-ship batteries at Collector vessel," EDI announced calmly.

Well, at least the Collector ship would take a beating, no matter what happened down here. Garrus felt a little surge of triumph, knowing that they'd managed to do something right on this mission. Then the entirety of his attention was focussed on the Collector... thing... attacking Shepard.

The deafening roar of the GARDIAN lasers almost overpowered the seething scream of the alien's particle beam. Garrus and Jack made several experimental attacks, evaluating its weak points, while Shepard continued to lead it around the quad, taking her own shots where she could. The Collector weapon she'd claimed did some damage, but the thing had armor like nothing he'd ever seen before. It was like trying to penetrate a ship's hull with a handgun. After a time, Jack holstered her own weapon and relied entirely upon her biotics, preferring the relative safety of hit-and-run attacks. Garrus also abandoned a sniper's attack, because this enemy moved too much for him to risk being out of line of sight for too long. The turian loped across the quad in long, ground-eating strides, using cover when he needed to but mostly striving to flank his target and penetrate it's armor. It was basically ignoring him and Jack, which pissed him off even more. Seeing that particle beam eating into whatever piece of cover Shepard was sheltering behind was not pleasant for him.

"Multiple impacts. Collector vessel is taking damage," EDI assured them. Garrus spared a glance upward to see bursts of orange flame erupting from the monolithic Collector vessel at several points.

"Garrus, now!" Shepard yelled suddenly and he spun back around, firing on the damned bug monster before he even knew why. She had it pinned down with her stolen particle beam, and Jack caught on in time to send a burst of biotic shockwave careening towards it. It was hovering, dropping down under their combined assault, and struggling to stagger back upwards. But it was no longer firing its particle beam, and all three of them targeted it determinedly. Jack pulled out her heaviest weapon and it jerked futilely under the triple assault. Garrus watched in grim, exhausted satisfaction as it dropped heavily again, emitting a high-pitched scream, before it collapsed in a burning heap of slagged chitin.

"Fuck me." Jack stumbled against a convenient wall, her tattoos blurred by streaks of blood, and her eyes were strangely frightened despite her defiant tone.

"Everyone okay?" Shepard asked heavily, her eyes on Garrus.

"Nothing a little medi-gel and a two week paid vacation won't fix, Commander," the turian responded automatically. But he managed a weary grin that actually did reassure her, and all of them turned their attention skywards.

Under EDI's deft control, the GARDIAN lasers fired a relentless barrage at the Collector vessel. With no real idea of where the ship's weak points might be, EDI had apparently elected to shoot for maximum coverage in expectation that something vital might be hit.

Garrus couldn't deny the sense of satisfaction he felt in watching that ship bleed and burn. His mandibles pressed sharp against his face in a happy snarl as another explosion erupted from the length of the vessel. The explosion made him close his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, there was an even brighter pulse of white-hot fire blasting from the tail of the ship.

"They're pulling out!" Garrus shouted, even as the heat of the launch rolled over them and all three raised their arms to shield the exposed flesh of their faces. Behind his raised arm, Garrus saw it lift itself like a burning star into the sky, a dark streak punctuated by that flaming tail. As it rose higher and higher into the atmosphere, it shrank slowly to a single fireball against the blue sky.

Jack was staring blankly at the shrinking ship. Shepard's face was twisted into a grimace, and he knew that look.

It hit him suddenly, and he felt the failure swamp him. _The colonists were still onboard. Alenko was probably on board that thing._ Whatever those bastards wanted human colonists for, he knew without a shadow of a doubt, it was something truly evil. Something that was going to have those people screaming for death long before their ends came. The Collectors, and the Reapers, knew nothing of mercy.

The fading throb of the Collector vessel's engines filled the air when he sighed and looked back at Shepard. She was composed now, her expression somber, but controlled.

"There's no reason to stay," Garrus said quietly into the silence. "Most of the colonists were on board. They got what they came for." Everything except Shepard. And he wanted more than anything to get the hell off this planet so he could relax and let himself breathe again.

"NO!" The shout came from behind and Garrus had almost shot the human mechanic, Delan, before he recognised the man racing across the Starport. "Don't let them get away!" the colonist protested, staring in horror at the escaping ship.

"There's nothing we can do," Shepard answered wearily. "They're gone."

The man staggered to a halt, staring futilely up at the sky. "Half the colony's in there! They took Egan and Sam and... and Lilith! Do something!" Delan pleaded, casting his desperate gaze from the sky to Shepard. He looked at her as if she could do something; Garrus knew that look. Something inside of him cringed at the pressure that silent, impossible demand placed on her.

"I didn't want it to end this way. I did what I could," Shepard said quietly.

"More than most, Shepard," Garrus told her firmly. He imbued his voice with all the confidence he had in her, and was rewarded by seeing her straighten slightly in response. Standing behind her as he was, he couldn't see her expression, but Garrus had long ago mastered the art of reading her body language.

"Shepard?" the mechanic asked suddenly, and turned to stare at her. "Wait... I know that name... Sure, I remember you. You're some type of big Alliance hero."

"Commander Shepard. Captain of the Normandy." Kaidan Alenko looked very much alive, and very much unharmed as he emerged from the smoking debris edging the quad and walked towards them, his eyes fixed intently on the Commander. "The first human Spectre. Saviour of the Citadel."

Garrus heard Shepard draw in a sharp, hitching breath.

"You're in the presence of a legend, Delan," Alenko continued smoothly, shooting a sidelong glance at the sour-faced mechanic. Garrus watched his former crewmate turn back towards Commander Shepard, saw the man's expression harden. "And a ghost."

"All the good people we lost, and you get left behind. Figures." Delan's voice broke with futile anger. The man waved his hands in dismissal. "Screw this. I'm done with you Alliance types," he growled at them all, and turned his back on them.

Garrus didn't pay the departing mechanic any attention. His focus was devoted entirely to Alenko. The turian couldn't deny how glad he was to see the man, nor the warm relief he felt at knowing Kaidan wasn't on board the Collector ship. _Something went right. For once, something went right,_ Garrus found himself thinking gratefully.

Alenko was advancing on them again, his eyes on the Commander. "I thought you were dead, Shepard. We all did." Alenko stopped before Shepard, standing closer than was probably polite by human standards... Garrus watched on curiously, as Alenko reached his arms around the Commander and pulled her to him.

It was a gesture he'd seen humans do many times, but never with the Commander. Most humans seemed small to him, but Garrus had never considered the Commander in such a way. Her presence was so vivid and strong, that the fact that she was actually quite diminutive was overlooked almost immediately. But as he watched Alenko enfold her in his arms, and saw how much bigger Alenko was than her, Garrus was suddenly struck by how tiny she actually was. Even in her armor.

The turian tilted his head and studied them as the embrace stretched on. On the one hand, there was something very _right_ about it; he could see the way the smaller human female fit perfectly against the larger frame of the male. It was very human, two pieces of the same whole fitting together. Yet on the other hand, there was something very _wrong_ with the fact that it was Shepard. It didn't look like Shepard just then, even in her armor. Shepard wasn't small, or cuddly, or soft.

Garrus watched in bemusement as Shepard finally drew back and Alenko reluctantly released her.

"It's been too long, Kaidan. How've you been?"

There was something different in her voice, too; the tone all low-pitched and full of warm affection. It suddenly dawned on Garrus that he was seeing a very private, surreally feminine side of Shepard in her reunion with a lover. It was so alien to the Commander Shepard he knew, that it felt as if he were violating her privacy somehow and he felt abruptly embarrassed. The turian looked quickly downwards, scuffing one foot at the dirt as he tried not to listen to their conversation.

Unfortunately, turian hearing was quite good.

"That's all you have to say?" Alenko asked. His voice did _not_sound warm and affectionate. It sounded incredulous and hurt. "You show up after two years and just act like nothing happened? I thought we had something Shepard... something real. I... I loved you."

Garrus shifted awkwardly, earnestly wishing he had followed the mechanic away. Jack didn't seem at all bothered by what was going on; in fact, she was watching with open fascination and a slight grin. He wanted to drag her away and leave the two of them to resolve this in private. As much as Alenko's plaintive tone grated on his nerves, Garrus simply didn't know anything about human mating rituals, or their interpersonal relationships. Maybe that was normal in this situation.

"Thinking you were dead tore me apart," Alenko continued, still in that wounded tone. "How could you put me through that? Why didn't you try to contact me? Why didn't you let me know you were alive?"

"Not my choice," Shepard answered regretfully. "I spent the last two years in some kind of coma while Cerberus rebuilt me."

The cold, hard truth of that statement made Garrus look up to see how Kaidan would react. To his confusion, he saw Alenko back away slowly, the man's face fixed in an expression of disbelief.

"You're with Cerberus now. Garrus too?" Alenko's gaze darted from Shepard to the turian, his voice sounding vaguely sick. "I can't believe the reports were right."

"Reports?" Garrus asked sharply, deciding he was allowed to join in since he'd been addressed. His eyes narrowed behind the visor in sudden understanding. "You mean, you already knew?"

Alenko knew what Shepard had been through, knew she'd been dead... and had still greeted her with accusations and recriminations. Garrus felt a flash of anger that washed away any discomfort and his gaze on Alenko turned hard. He had promised Shepard he'd have her back. He had no intention of letting her fight this one alone.

Alenko diverted his gaze very briefly to the turian, then locked it back onto Shepard. "Alliance intel thought Cerberus might be behind the missing human colonies. They got a tip this colony might be the next one to get hit. Anderson stonewalled me," he explained with frustration. "But there were rumours that you weren't dead. That you were working for the enemy."

Shepard's voice was a little harder this time. "Cerberus and I want the same thing. To save our colonies. That doesn't mean I answer to them."

Alenko closed in on Shepard fiercely. "Do you really believe that? Or is that just what Cerberus wants you to think? I wanted to believe the rumours that you were alive... but I never expected anything like this."

Garrus' anger rose with every word Alenko uttered. He had to clench his jaw firmly shut to avoid interrupting again. _What does it matter where she's been? She's alive, she's here now!_ Garrus could only remember the blinding relief he'd felt on Omega, seeing Shepard in his scope coming over that bridge. He hadn't spent even a second wondering where she'd been, or what she was doing there. All that had mattered was that she was back. The rest had taken care of itself.

Kaidan shook his head angrily. "You turned your back on everything we believed in. You betrayed the Alliance. You betrayed me."

_How can you question her loyalty? Her dedication? _Garrus silently snarled at him. _She's back from the dead and the first thing she does is take up the fight against the Reapers again... while you sit here whining like a neglected child! _ Garrus struggled not to unclench his jaw and let the angry words roll out. He had to admire Shepard for keeping her cool, though he could hear the tension in her voice when she answered finally.

"Kaidan, you _know_ me. You know I'd only do this for the right reason. You saw it yourself. The Collectors are targeting human colonies. And they're working with the Reapers!"

It was surreal, listening to her argue the cause with Kaidan Alenko, of all people.

"I want to believe you, Shepard," Kaidan answered with low-voiced urgency. "But I don't trust Cerberus. They could be using the threat of a Reaper to manipulate you. What if they're behind it? What if they're working with the Collectors?"

Garrus felt his anger break through. "Damn it, Kaidan!" the turian snapped hotly. "You're so focussed on Cerberus that you're ignoring the real threat!"

"You're letting how you feel about their history get in the way of the facts," Shepard agreed softly, her voice gently persuasive. Garrus had heard her use the same voice to talk down gunman, and convince countless individuals to trust her.

Alenko looked from Shepard to Garrus and his expression grew stubborn. "Maybe. Or maybe you feel like you owe Cerberus because they saved you. Maybe you're the one who's not thinking straight."

"You've changed," Alenko said regretfully, looking down at Shepard. "But I still know where my loyalties lie. I'm an Alliance soldier. Always will be. I've got to report back to the Citadel. They can decide if they believe your story or not."

Garrus watched in sick disbelief as Alenko backed away further, and Shepard let him go. Reacting badly to Shepard still being alive was one thing, but this... He kept waiting for her to speak up, to ask him to come with them, to offer him a position on the ship... Garrus thought of the photo of Kaidan sitting on her desk, and stared at Shepard in alarm.

"So long, Kaidan," Commander Shepard said quietly after a long moment.

Alenko paused; maybe he had thought she'd let him go without another word. "So long, Commander." He hesitated a moment longer, looking from Shepard to Garrus and back again. "Good luck."

Then he stepped around the corner and was gone.

The Commander lifted her hand heavily to touch the comm. unit by her ear. "Joker, send a shuttle to pick us up," she said flatly. "I've had enough of this colony."

Garrus couldn't say anything in the silence that fell. He watched Shepard uneasily, striving to understand what had happened. He wasn't human. Shepard might choose to understand Alenko's sense of personal ethics, but as a turian, Garrus never would. The goals of the unit always superseded the desires of the individual. To reject his commander, abandon the mission and turn his back on his team made Kaidan Alenko a traitor. There was no excuse, and no forgiveness, for such a betrayal.

The roar of the shuttle breaking atmosphere overhead was as much a reprieve to him as it seemed to be to Shepard. Garrus couldn't disguise the wash of relief that surged through him when the shuttle door sealed itself behind them. He took one look at Shepard, safely buckled into the restraints, and felt the rumble of the shuttle that meant it was launching free of Horizon.

_We survived._

Garrus let that single truth wipe away the shock of seeing Alenko, the horrors of what they'd been through on Horizon. He watched the planet fall away beneath them, and wrapped his brain around that single truth.

_We survived._ _Shepard is alive._

The turian looked up at his Commander, and was surprised to see her watching him in return. The slow curl of a smile tugged tiredly at her mouth.

"At least we saved half the colony," Shepard said softly. "That's not so bad."

Garrus felt tension easing away as he smiled faintly back at her. "Better than most, Shepard," he replied honestly and saw her smile widen briefly.

_Screw Alenko_, he decided, as they both went back to watching Horizon fall away. _We survived. _


	6. Chapter 5: Beauty Like a Tightened Bow

**A/N - **Sorry this has taken so long, study and exams get in the way of life for both me and my lovely beta, Hatteress. If anyone is keen to volunteer as alternate beta, please let me know :) My next chapter will be a re-write of the prelude chapter. Since this story has taken on a life of its own, I owe it a proper introduction, rather than something I bashed out in ten minutes to see if I liked writing in this 'verse. Story will continue unimpeded after that! Hope you're all still enjoying, reviews make me smile!

* * *

"Joker!"

The pilot slouched deeper into the comfy leather seat and eyed the door controls to the cockpit longingly. As epically satisfying as it would be to slam the door on that Cerberus lapdog... With a grimace, Joker pushed against the edge of his console and let the chair spin around so he was facing Jacob Taylor.

"You hollered?" Joker asked innocently.

Jacob paused at the entrance to the cockpit, his dark face set in a frown. "Where's Commander Shepard? She's not answering the comm. and I can't track her down."

"Easy question, easy answer. She's not onboard, soldier boy."

It was kind of fun watching the Cerberus operative's eyes almost bug out of his head. "What the hell do you mean, not on board? We haven't..." Jacob stopped suddenly, his gaze sliding slowly towards the stationery star field displayed through the viewport. Then back to Joker. "Shit. She's... outside? With the crews?"

Joker smirked at him. "Got it in one."

* * *

Shepard had always enjoyed zero-g. Her origins as a dirtball colonist meant that she'd copped all kinds of crap about it from the spacer brats during earlier Alliance training. But this was the first time she'd been Outside since... well, since she'd died. Died grasping and wrenching at her burst air tube, choking on hard vacuum.

To say she'd been a bit anxious about going out again was an understatement. Which only made it even more imperative that she do so. Shepard wasn't the kind of person to turn her back on the things that scared her. She looked them in the eye and, wherever possible, shot them right in the face. So here she was, hanging in space, and despite a slightly more obsessive than normal attention to her breathing apparatus, she was surprisingly okay with it.

It wasn't the emptiness of space that prompted that initial frisson of fear down her spine, it was the pit-of-the-stomach anxiety that her breathing hoses would spontaneously fall to pieces and she'd suffocate. But having a job to do out here meant she _had_ to focus on the immediate task, which buried any anxiety fairly quickly. The lack of a looming planet ready to suck her into its atmosphere and burn her to a crisp again was also a bonus.

Shepard had drifted a bit too far away from her position, and the cables clipping her into place tugged insistently at her waist. She grunted in irritation, flipping away from the ship's hull to try to access the secondary panel she needed out here. There was always a bit of acrobatics involved, pushing the limits of the cables rather than going to the effort of unclipping them, manoeuvring down to the next access point and starting over. And since hanging feet-first in space to reach her objective wasn't a bother for her, she did it happily enough.

She was even humming softly to herself.

The crews had been working around the clock to get the hull upgrades completed, simultaneous to the installation of the Thanix cannon. It had been a logistics nightmare, and Shepard had to admit that EDI had proven an invaluable asset in scheduling the upgrade process. They had more money than god, thanks to Cerberus funding, and she'd damned well made sure they got the best of everything. Shepard knew in her bones that the Normandy SR-2 would have to finish the battle that had killed her older sister, and this time, the Commander intended that they win.

The bulk of the crew currently working an EVA shift were on the starboard side of the Normandy, finishing up the last of the hull plating. The diamond-composited Silaris armor had to be attached to the superstructure of the Normandy, so they'd had two options: sandwich it over the original hull, by fitting a series of 'ribs' on which to mount the Silaris armor and filling the space between with a metal polymer; or they could take the more expensive option of fusing the new hull plating directly onto the old, bonding the two substances together. It took longer, cost more, and ultimately added greater strength to the hull. No prizes for guessing which option she'd picked.

So while the rest of the crew were finalising the last section of Silaris armor installation, Shepard was out here, completing the last of the finicky little upgrades on the Thanix cannons. They were a battery of cannons mounted beneath the vessel's main hull, meaning she wasn't even in sight of the rest of the workers. The entire battery was designed to retract when not in combat mode, but at this stage, it was fully extended, giving her the best access to the connections she needed to fine tune.

The Commander was feeling... content. It was the first time in a long time she could say that, and the hell that was the Horizon mission certainly hadn't helped. She was enjoying the work, and the intense focus it required. She was enjoying the isolation, the silence of EVA. A silence that she filled contentedly with her own off-tune humming, right up until the moment her suit radio crackled demandingly and Jacob's voice thrummed irritably in her ear.

"Commander Shepard, please confirm your position."

Shepard heard her own sigh disrupt the steady breathing that had become quite soothing. "Hanging upside down somewhere underneath engineering, on the wrong side of the hull. Relax, Jacob. I'm fine."

She could almost picture him gritting his teeth. "Commander, we don't have anyone scheduled on the Thanix right now. Everyone's starboard side."

Shepard opened her mouth to reply, when another voice slid smoothly over the comm. line. "She said relax, Jacob. She's not solo."

The flanging quality of the voice identified it immediately as turian. Garrus was the only person on the Normandy who never needed to identify himself over the radio, Shepard realized. Though he had a distinctive enough voice, even for a turian. There was a moment's silence, then Jacob asked with much less concern, "you're outside too, Vakarian? Anything wrong with the Thanix?"

"Just a little targeting issue with the hardware, the scope's pushing everything slightly to the left. We've almost got it sorted out here. Give us another two hours and we'll be back inside." The serene confidence of the turian's reply was enough for Jacob to let the issue go.

"Understood. I'll check back in two hours, Commander. Jacob out."

The little click in her right ear indicated the channel to the Normandy had closed. Nobody went outside solo, and all spacewalks required at least two suits to link their radios. Those links remained open at all times, for safety reasons. So the link between Shepard and Garrus' suits didn't close down when Jacob logged off, and she heard his low-pitched chuckle clearly.

"You could have told someone where we were going," he chastised.

She didn't bother to look for him; he was on the far side of the Thanix and its bulk blocked her view of him. Besides, she didn't need to see him to read his amusement with the situation.

"I did, Garrus. I told Joker," Shepard answered him truthfully, smirking to herself. He chuckled again, a low, sardonic sound.

"Of course, Shepard. How are you going over there?"

She pushed back from the control unit she was fiddling with, to get a wider perspective on it, and sighed heavily. "Honestly? Not great. This isn't my field of expertise. I think I've narrowed the problem down, though, so whenever you can drag yourself over to my side of the gun and check me on this..." She trailed off suggestively, and heard him snort.

"Give me a minute," Garrus answered easily. "You've done fine so far, Shepard. I'm glad you volunteered to help me with this... even if it does mean I have to put up with that awful sound you make."

"Huh?" Shepard blinked in surprise. "What sound I make?"

The Commander heard something over the radio, a peculiarly flat and oddly flanging sound that she realized... after a moment of confused listening... was Garrus attempting to hum. Tunelessly, the same way she did. She felt herself grin and then laughed outright. "Damn Garrus, don't ever do that again. I'll stop humming, I promise. Didn't even realize I was doing it."

"You have my eternal gratitude. I'll even name my firstborn after you," the turian replied. From the absent note of his voice, Shepard guessed he was pretty involved in finishing up whatever he was doing over there. But he'd make jokes even on his deathbed, it was second nature to him.

"Assuming you ever have one," Shepard retorted idly, clipping the tool she'd been using back onto her belt and pushing off from the ship's hull. She hovered weightlessly in space, floating a meter away from the hull, as she waited for him to finish up and make his way over. Damn, it was peaceful out here.

Garrus snorted softly over the radio. "Good point. But I'm sure one day some charming lady will happily lure me into her nest to lay my offspring."

Shepard spun lazily around, the Normandy appearing to cartwheel across her vision, until she was floating with her back towards the ship. She faced the endless depths of space calmly, serenely, until she absently took in his remark and her eyes widened. "Garrus... turians don't really lay eggs, do they?"

His laughter was warm and familiar, resonating through her suit radio. "Of course we do, Shepard. Why do you think your scientists like to compare us to those dinosaurs of yours?"

She was fairly sure he was just messing with her now. On firmer ground – metaphorically, at least – Shepard grinned out at the void. "There's nothing reptilian about you, Vakarian. Hawkish, maybe, with those damned bird bones of yours, but you're nothing like a lizard."

The appearance of new lights to her right made the Commander turn her head carefully, and there he was. The EVA suit he wore was turian-designed of course, and as blue as his armor. The strips of safety lights along his torso, arms and legs, as well as the bright lights above his faceplate, were what had caught her attention. In space, he was even more graceful than in gravity, clambering hand over hand towards her with the lithe efficiency of a deep space predator.

When he got close enough, she could see the smirking angle of his mandibles, the flash of amusement in his expression. "Happy to hear it, Commander. Show me your problem."

She spun back towards the hull, and gestured carefully with one gloved finger towards the connection she was having trouble with. "It looks like it isn't making full linkage with the targeting computers, but like I said... not my specialty."

Garrus' lanky blue form settled down beside her, his feet floating out in empty space as easily as her own were, their bodies drifting alongside one another within the limited stretch of the safety cables. Garrus tilted his head so that the lights of his helmet illuminated the gear she was pointing to. "Hmmm," he said softly. "You could be right. It's not an easy fix, but what I'm working on over there is all a hardware issue." He tilted his head towards her, so their helmets were almost touching. "Swap?"

She gave a quick grin, because nodding in space was a bad idea unless you wanted to deal with the third law of motion. "Deal. What's your O2 count?" Shepard asked, running her gaze quickly over the HUD of her helmet to check her own.

"Hmmm. 163 minutes left. Two hours should do it. I don't want to have to come back out here," he added grumpily.

"Not a fan of EVA?" she asked, pushing up and away from him. It was a bit of social conditioning that had to be trained out of you when you first started EVA work. It wasn't actually bad manners to turn your back on someone, mid-conversation, when you had a radio link-up.

"Not particularly," was all he said, but the way he bit off the two words in distaste made her smirk. Nice to know there was something in the universe that unsettled the unflappable Garrus Vakarian. Even if it was only because he couldn't snipe the bad guys as easily in zero-g.

Shepard found herself grinning as she made her way carefully across the huge bulk of the newly-installed Thanix cannon to deal with the hardware issue. Two hours to get this baby up and running, and then they could get to the testing.

That was really going to make her day. Firing off a Reaper-inspired weapon, tamed to her own damned control, would be the ultimate 'fuck you' to Harbinger. Maybe it would even help stave off the damned nightmares for a night or two.

Yeah. If she was lucky.

Shepard got busy with the task at hand, which was –as Garrus had promised – a fairly straight forward hardware issue; some connections weren't being made where they should be. The onboard assembly process of fairly delicate components hadn't been as painstaking as it should have been... or things had shifted during the installation process... Not an uncommon issue, and nothing she'd have to berate her crew about, even if she could confirm someone had been at fault. It was a straight forward fix, but tedious and time-consuming all the same. The faulty installation could belong to one of quite a number of parts, and as there was no way to identify which was the problem, she'd just have to check them all.

All Shepard could hear was the sound of her own breathing, and the faint echo of Garrus' carrying over the radio link.

After a while, she noticed that he kept hitching his breath, and then exhaling sharply. She heard it a few times before realizing what she was hearing; the sound of a hesitant turian catching himself before he spoke.

Shepard smirked to herself. "Out with it, big guy," she said smugly over the radio. There was a startled pause and her smirk widened. "Come on, Garrus. You've got something on your mind, right? Spill it."

She managed to remove, check and re-install a part before he was able to reply.

"Alright, Shepard. When are you going to wake up the krogan?"

Shepard blinked. _Not the question I expected. _Garrus' recent sidelong glances and surreptitious observation were his version of pussyfooting around her, and the issue of Kaidan and Horizon. Jack had let the entire matter drop with a scornful "the guy is an asshole. You should have let me kick his ass." Garrus hadn't said a word about it, and she'd been steeling herself for him to broach the topic eventually. _ Hell, maybe turians don't do the touchy-feely crap with their commanders. _

"You know Garrus," she replied conversationally, returning her attention to the task at hand. "Everyone else on this ship has asked me _if_, not _when_. _If_ I'm going to wake the nuked-up superkrogan tanked out in our cargo hold."

Garrus' uniquely flanged laughter resonated over the radio. "I know you better than that. You're not going to keep a potential ally in stasis on the off chance you can't win it over."

"Off chance? You're uncharacteristically optimistic today."

A snort was her answer. "Shepard, you can sweet talk your way around anyone. And if that doesn't work, hell, you can probably just head butt him into submission."

She couldn't help but grin to herself at that, out here in the void with nobody to see. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, big guy. I'll save the head butting as a last resort." Shepard carefully, deliberately withdrew a component from its cradle, tilted her head to shine her helmet light over it, and then just as purposefully, replaced it. The successful union was signalled by a vibration as it clicked into place.

"I bet you could take him out with a head butt," Garrus remarked with that familiar, dry humour that still managed to catch her by surprise.

It was all she could do to choke back her laughter. "Oh yeah? What's the wager?"

"You prove me right, and you owe me a new set of armor."

Smoothly adjusting yet another component, Shepard chuckled softly. It would almost be worth it, to see him out of the cracked blue armor he still wore. Every damn time she looked at that missing chunk under the scarred right side of his face, she remembered that gunship. "Alright, you're on. And if I end up in med bay with a skull fracture?"

He 'hmmmm'd' softly in apparent thought. "I'll get you a new rifle. A _good_ one. You cling to that Shuriken like it's going to propose to you one day."

Shepard laughed outright at that, even as the bank of lights at the far side of her panel started blinking in cheerful acknowledgement of restored functionality. "You're on. And I've fixed the problem over here. I'm going to go check the rest before we head back in. Don't want to have to drag you back out here."

"And the krogan?" Garrus asked. Something in his voice, a serious tone that stood out sharply against his previous teasing, caught Shepard's attention immediately.

"I'd planned on waking him up as soon as we're done with these upgrades." Shepard found herself frowning in bemusement as she drifted smoothly across the hull of the Normandy to the next blinking panel. "What's the problem?"

She could hear the hesitation, the long pause of silence unbroken even by breathing. Shepard remembered his uncertainty about broaching this topic and knew it was going to go somewhere he was nervous about walking into.

"It's not the krogan," Garrus finally said quietly. "But I think we should do something with him before we take on any new crew."

_Ahhh_. And there it was.

It wasn't the krogan, he was right on that score. After Horizon, the Illusive Man had deposited a new series of dossiers for potential recruits... an even more ragtag, disreputable bunch than his first lot. Assassins, mercenaries, thieves.

And one very old friend who'd already turned her back on Shepard once.

"This is about Tali," Shepard concluded calmly. Maybe turians did do touchy-feely crap with their commanders. They just did it _badly_. With a lot of circuitous lead up and distracting humour. "Make you a deal, Garrus. We'll finish up here, head back in and test out these sexy new guns you've got for me, and then we'll talk about Tali. Ok?"

Inside. Where the testing would need to take place in the main battery, already scoured free of Cerberus monitoring devices. Devices which were embedded on their suits, recording every word they said. She head Garrus sigh quickly in relief.

"Deal, Commander," the turian drawled back at her.

* * *

The main battery was always a little warmer than the rest of the ship. Shepard hadn't been able to work out yet whether that was because of its proximity to the engine core, or because Garrus had coerced EDI into turning the heat up slightly. As he'd once told her, turians _'don't like_ the cold.'

They'd gotten back inside in under the two hour limit, and headed directly here. Shepard had delayed the next shift to finish the hull upgrades. She wanted a successful test of the Thanix canon first, before she sent more people out to crawl over the hull. Garrus had seemed pleased with the improved results from the targeting computer, but had insisted on making some final adjustments before they initiated the test run.

That had been almost an hour ago. Shepard had seated herself on the tool box against the far wall and waited patiently. At least, to start with. Heavy sighs and pointed throat-clearing had earned her a distracted, vaguely apologetic glance from Garrus, and the latest in a series of them had even prompted a "just a few more minutes, Commander." Shepard was willing to be patient. This was his baby, after all. His idea, and he'd been the one out there, supervising the installation. Garrus had gotten as obsessive over the Thanix cannon as he usually was with his own damn rifle. She was starting to get the feeling that his finicky calibrations were the equivalent of his compulsive cleaning of his firearm. When she wandered close enough to see just how pedantic he was being with the firing algorithms, she knew she was right.

Shepard snorted and shoved him hard in the shoulder, enough to knock him off-balance slightly and make him stare down at her in surprise. "Enough, Vakarian. You can sweet-talk the targeting computer on your own time. I want to make sure this thing will actually shoot, before we worry too much about its precision. Is there some reason we can't do that right now?"

Garrus stilled his hands on the controls, grumbling something under his breath which she couldn't quite make out. It may have even been in turian. "Fine, fine. Yes, it will shoot. It will even hit your target." He looked disgruntled by the interruption, and she waited a moment until she could see his brain dragging itself out of the intense focus of careful calibration, and back onto the task at hand. When he grimaced at her, mandibles splaying against his face, she grinned back.

"Excellent. Set us up, big guy."

EDI had found them a nice isolated system with a convenient asteroid belt, and no occupants other than a few very uncommunicative mining settlements on the fourth planet. It had granted them the privacy and safety to shut the ship down long enough for the upgrades, and the asteroid belt provided the perfect target range.

Shepard pressed her index finger to the radio control at her ear. "Joker, we're prepping for fire test now. Five minute countdown."

"Roger that, Commander," Joker answered eagerly. She found herself grinning a bit. Joker was as impatient as her to test a Reaper-based weapon, knowing what it would mean to their likelihood of survival. Knowing what it would mean to the memory of the old Normandy. It was like getting their own back.

Garrus was busy at the controls, setting the over-tuned targeting computer to select a reasonably sized asteroid for the test. There were enough in the belt, that he had one in under two minutes. She had to peer around his shoulder to watch as he called up the firing controls. The Thanix cannon was still extended from their final work, so it was ready and raring to go immediately.

Shepard was mildly surprised when Garrus slid to the left to grant her better viewing... but downright startled when he hesitated, then stepped away completely.

"Controls are yours, Commander," the turian said quietly.

Shepard blinked. "Are you sure, Garrus? This is your project..."

She saw the humour in his expression as he shook his head. "No, Shepard. It's... Consider it a gift," he remarked slyly, crossing his arms and smirking at her. Daring her to refuse, when he damned well knew how badly she was itching to do this.

The Commander didn't refuse. She stepped up to the controls willingly, even eagerly, and nodded once as he explained what she'd need to do. Shepard kept her eyes on the targeting display, waiting for confirmation that the Thanix cannon was fully powered up and ready for the test. Just before they hit the five-minute mark she'd given Joker, it flashed green in readiness. The controls were basically the same as those for the ship's main guns, and it only took a few commands to initiate the test.

Shepard had never before felt such visceral satisfaction in pressing buttons.

Her finger slid over the last command key and instantly her hands both curled into fists, pressing hard against the edge of the panel. She could sense Garrus' eager attention just over her left shoulder, saw him step forward sharply as they both fixed their gazes intently on the display.

The vibration of the cannon firing ripped through the belly of the Normandy, shuddering the deck plating beneath their feet, and trembling the panel under Shepard's clenched hands. And on the display, she watched it... burning golden fire erupting from the Normandy, she could damn well _feel it_ raging through the void towards its target. Reaper technology. The same weapon that had ripped her first Normandy to shreds, leashed under her hands. The thing that ripped her world – her _life_ – apart, tamed to her control.

The asteroid wasn't blown up. It didn't explode, or splinter, or break apart under the assault.

It was obliterated. Utterly. The savage fire erupted from the Thanix cannon and a second later the asteroid was gone. In fact, a chunk of the asteroid belt around it was also gone. Chaos reigned amongst the cosmos, as the impact shattered the sedate tumbling of the occupants of the belt, crashing them one into another, rolling outward from the target zone.

Shepard realized she was breathing hard, short, sharp breaths; her lips were pulled back from her teeth in an expression that just missed pleasure to become a predatory snarl. Over the radio, she could hear Joker's exultant howling.

_They had a weapon that could fucking hurt the Reapers. _

She looked up at Garrus, and for the first time in a long time, she couldn't read his expression. She suspected it was the turian equivalent of her own, all sharp angles and savage flash of teeth. He looked momentarily terrifying, the blue of his clan markings highlighting the alien quality.

They stared at one another like that, that truly vicious satisfaction running headily between them. Shepard didn't know what to say, but Garrus did.

"The Normandy has teeth." His voice was almost a purr, low-pitched and flanging and the sound jolted down her spine in a sharp, unexpected line. Shepard pressed her fists harder against the panel and felt her grin stretch wider.

"Damn straight, she does. And we'll use it to rip their fucking spines out." Shepard was glad they were alone down here, glad the Cerberus devices had been removed. She might later come to regret indulging in this savage triumph, wallowing in her baser instincts. And she damned sure wouldn't want anyone but Garrus to see her like this. Anyone else would misunderstand, but Garrus knew this wasn't really her. Knew that it was only that after everything they had done to her... she damned well needed this. Needed to get her own back. It was why he'd let her fire the damn canon, after all.

Her expression relaxed, becoming less savage and more human. The moment of triumph passed, but her ebullience didn't. Garrus looked more like himself again, as well. "Good work, Vakarian," she praised honestly. Garrus had put a lot of work into getting the Thanix prepared and installed. Shepard knew it would prove the difference between survival and obliteration in the end.

The turian inclined his head in acknowledgement of her comment. His eyes slid past her to the still-active firing controls, and a three-fingered hand smoothly reached out and de-activated them. Locked them down again. There was a vague thrum under her feet, or was Shepard only imagining she could feel the Thanix retract back into the main hull?

"It can still use a little fine tuning, but I'll get it operating at optimum capacity for you by the time you need it, Commander," Garrus promised her, the glint of determination in his visage. She wanted to laugh, but there wasn't anything amusing about it, because she suddenly got it.

Shepard had been wrong before. Garrus wasn't fussing with the guns because he was an obsessive compulsive perfectionist who'd finally found something bigger to play with than his rifle. His fixation on the Normandy's weapons was a symptom of the same drive that saw her staying up late, night after night, planning countless mission scenarios. It was more than just dedication to the mission, it was... a drive, a compulsion, a ferocious need to kill them all. It hadn't been like this the last time. It hadn't been like this... before she died.

Shepard realized she'd been staring at him for a moment, and blinked sharply. "I have every confidence in you, Garrus. You've already delivered the goods, as far as I'm concerned," Shepard assured him. She glanced towards the doors leading back out into the corridor, but didn't turn away. She'd made a promise, and Shepard never went back on a promise. "So you want to get the band back together then?" the Commander asked thoughtfully.

Garrus gave her a puzzled expression. The kind that usually meant _'this is a human thing and I don't get it.'_ Shepard shook her head in dismissal and clarified. "You want us to try to recruit Tali?"

His face cleared to comprehension and he nodded once. "I think she'll say yes," the turian replied, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall. He watched her in silence as she considered that.

"She already said no."

"Since when does Commander Shepard give up?" Garrus retaliated instantly.

Shepard narrowed her eyes at him. She wanted to be pissed, but he was baiting her too obviously for her to take him up on it. "There are plenty of other solid talents in the dossiers the Illusive Man sent us. We wouldn't be doing her any favours by dragging her into this fight."

Garrus gave her a _look_, the kind that told her he knew she was full of crap. Shepard had the grace to glance away in acknowledgement of that silent rebuke. He was right, she was full of crap. Tali could take care of herself, and Shepard wasn't exactly known for wrapping people in cotton wool.

"Assassins and mercenaries and thieves, Shepard? That's who you want us to rely on? Really?" His voice was faintly mocking, lightly disparaging, and she grimaced back at him.

"I can't force anyone into joining up with us, Garrus. If I could..." Shepard shrugged uncomfortably. The memory of Horizon and Kaidan's appearance, was too raw. Garrus was watching her with an expression that was far too knowing.

"You taught us the mission comes first, Shepard. Tali had a job to do when you saw her on Freedom's Progress, she had... a team." Garrus hesitated over the last word awkwardly and the memory of Omega hung briefly between them. He paused and looked her straight in the eye, his expression unalterably determined. "Try again."

For a long time, she didn't look away. Shepard struggled to understand why this mattered so much to him. He wasn't suggesting they run out chasing down Liara, or Wrex. _Not yet, anyway,_ she added silently, and wondered if that was where this was going. Garrus had always had an overdeveloped sense of group dynamics.

"You're sure about this?" Shepard asked finally.

The briefly puzzled look on his face said he still didn't get how much she valued his opinion. It would take time. Shepard honestly felt entirely neutral about the entire Tali matter. She valued Tali, respected her, cared for her. But she didn't especially want to go chase the girl down and ask her – again – to join up. She saw no reason why the answer would have changed, and it seemed like wasted time and effort that could be better spent elsewhere. The quarian had other commitments; Shepard got that.

But it was strangely important to Garrus...

"I'm sure, Commander," Garrus answered levelly.

Hell, maybe this time around, Tali would agree to join them. In the wake of the successful Thanix test, she could spare a little optimism.

Shepard nodded once, sharply. "Okay then. We'll go ask. Again." Her chin lifted and she stared down his rather precious expression of surprise. "But only – _only_ – because I owe you for the gun," Shepard added sternly, pointing a finger at him in emphasis.

The Commander turned on her heel towards the doors, and had taken the two steps to reach them before he spoke again.

"Shepard."

She turned back. Garrus was watching her in confusion, but he had on his serious face.

"You don't owe me anything," the turian informed her stubbornly. The silence stretched briefly, as Shepard studied him in momentary bemusement. Garrus' gaze slid away awkwardly, hesitated, then shot back to her quickly. "And I will never suggest you ask Alenko again."

The Commander tensed at the name, her chin lifting sharply, eyes narrowing at him. Trying to understand what he was saying, because was this one of those odd turian honor things, or was her friend trying to tell her something that was being lost in translation? The steady pulse of his attention told her there was more to his comment, but...

Shepard nodded once, slowly. "I appreciate that, Garrus."

Her eyes still clouded with confusion, Shepard turned and left. She heard the doors close softly behind her as Garrus locked himself away in his sanctuary.

Why did she have the feeling that Kaidan just got kicked out of the band?


	7. Chapter 6: The Pride of His Eye

A/N - My sincere apologies for the delay in updates! Real life had to take priority for a little while, but I am happy to say that there will be more regular updates from here on in. As an apology to those who have been waiting so long for the next chapter, I'd like to offer an amazing piece of fanart: lord-of-the-guns (dot) deviantart (dot) com/gallery/#/d3l4qh6

This was drawn by a very dear friend, in honour of my absolutely apalling obsession with Garrus and Shepard. :) Hope you like it as much as I do!

Again, much love to all who have reviewed and faved this story - your support keeps me motivated!

* * *

The clean, sleek interior of the Normandy's training room was filled with the creaks and groans of human-designed exercise equipment being pushed past its endurance limit. Seven feet of lean, irritated turian was currently stretched out across the length of a human weight machine which had been rigged to accommodate his alien form.

Humans ships weren't intended for turians. The lighting was always too low, the temperature always too cold. The chairs and beds were meant for human bodies and inevitably left Garrus awkwardly seeking places to put his legs so the spurs didn't catch on anything. Their exercise equipment, designed for much smaller, softer bodies, had required some adjustment to make it worth his while even using it. Shepard had readily agreed to let him modify the machines as necessary; they didn't look pretty but they got the job done.

He only came here when he was particularly restless, and needed to work off aggression, or insomnia. Insomnia was unfortunately common for him these days; after Omega, he found it hard to sleep without picturing Sidonis' face. Typically, though, Garrus preferred to follow a fitness regime of live-fire combat and Shepard had certainly been providing enough opportunities for that.

But there were no missions today. Instead, muttering and grumbling under his breath about Shepard's wilful recklessness, Garrus had stormed into the training room, irritably added another set of weights to his favourite machine, and settled in for a series of muscle-straining reps. '_Bang Bang Boom_' pounded enthusiastically from the audio link in his visor, as Garrus pushed his body carefully in slow, controlled movements. The methodical nature of weight machines forced him to control his irritation with Shepard's stubbornness, as he focussed his awareness in on the pull and push of muscle and tendon.

As he did so, he was painfully aware that this very moment, Shepard was walking solo into the port cargo area with the reckless intention of letting their superkrogan baby out of his tank. Sure, Garrus agreed with _that_ decision. Hell, he'd encouraged her to move it along. But he damned well hadn't expected her to go in without any kind of backup. He'd straight up assumed he'd be in there, watching her back when she did it.

But no. Commander Shepard wanted to do this herself.

"...I'll bet this is because I bitched about her driving..."

The music pounding directly into his aural cavity from the visor shifted into a pulsating upbeat number from the Fleet and Flotilla soundtrack; his preferred combat playlist. Garrus grimaced and pushed harder against the added resistance of the weight machine. His taloned feet rested against the bare steel framework rigged to accommodate his greater reach.

She'd even gone so far as to expressly _forbid_ him from loitering about outside the door to the cargo area, and had made a strong suggestion that he avoid the entire deck for the next hour or so. The turian's mandibles flared in annoyance at the memory.

"...if she has to shoot him, this one is _not_ going on her kill count..."

Shepard was tough and stubborn, and she could take care of herself. He knew that. But Garrus couldn't help the fact that the idea of her deliberately getting within charging range of an unknown krogan was making his talons itch.

So here he was, trying to work off the nervous energy and reminding himself with every rep of yet another instance where Shepard had managed to unexpectedly kick ass and emerge not only intact, but victorious.

That didn't seem to stop him from cursing her under his breath though.

He'd been there long enough for his heart to be pounding energetically in his chest, when the sound of the door opening and heavy footfalls entering the room intruded on his awareness.

"Hey Vakarian," came Jacob Taylor's familiar, deep voice in greeting.

"Jacob," Garrus drawled back. He waited a moment to see if the other man had anything else to say, such as an update on Shepard's meeting with the krogan, but Jacob just moved to another weight machine at the other end of the room. The turian hummed softly in recognition that the man's relaxed mood was probably a good sign.

Garrus had nothing against Jacob; the Cerberus agent had been instrumental in getting them all out of Omega alive. But he had found that his interactions with the human male remained a little awkward. He wasn't entirely sure who's fault that was. Jacob was a good man to have in a fire fight; he stayed calm under pressure, and his biotics were an impressive addition to a fight.

All the same, he got the feeling the human didn't like him overly much.

As he got back into the groove with his improvised weight machine, trying to steer his thoughts away from what kind of a mess Shepard could be finding herself in right now, Garrus wondered about the potential benefits of the krogan joining their squad. The plan had been to get Okeer, a celebrated battlemaster with decades of skill in strategy and warfare, to assist them in taking on the Collectors. Now they had an unborn genetic experiment with _no_ experience other than whatever had been implanted in him in the tank. Even if all of Okeer's knowledge of tactics and strategy had made it through to this superkrogan, even if he agreed to join them and didn't force Shepard to kill him just because he couldn't be controlled... Would a tank-born krogan with no practical knowledge of the world really be an asset to them?

It wasn't as though he were Wrex, after all. Wrex had been an accomplished warrior in his own rights. As much as it pained Garrus' turian heritage, as much as he knew his father would disown him for the mere thought... Garrus had found Wrex to be a solid squad mate. He was cunning, he was strong, he knew when to cut his losses and when to go in for the kill. The only beef Garrus had with his old krogan buddy was Wrex's tendency to cross his line of fire and queer a sweet sniper shot.

Unconsciously, Garrus sped up, pushing harder against the resistance of the weights as he remembered some of those old fights.

Wrex had probably been his preferred companion on the old Normandy. After Shepard, of course. The humans were too... human. Tali was too young and sheltered. Liara was too skittish. Despite the history of krogans and turians, the only time the two of them had nearly come to blows was when Wrex's habit of queering the shot stopped him taking out a merc who then managed to wound Shepard. But Wrex had been a good guy. There was no way this baby krogan could match him, let alone _Okeer_.

Should he have tried to talk Shepard out of opening the tank? Was it worth the Commander risking herself? She might not want to admit it, but the cold, hard reality of the situation was that without her, they had nothing. The human crew were slowly warming to him (thanks primarily to his own suave and charming personality, he was sure), but Garrus wouldn't be able to hold them together if she were taken out. No matter what she thought of his abilities. No way.

"Vakarian."

The voice splintered his focus and Garrus stopped awkwardly. He half sat up and turned around to find Jacob watching him. "... Jacob?" the turian replied slowly, lifting a talon to pause the music on his visor.

The other man had evidently finished with his first machine and stopped to take a break. He had a clean white towel slung around his neck and a bottle of water in one hand as he approached the turian cautiously. "You're going pretty hard there. Might wanna take a break before you pass out, or burst a blood vessel or... whatever you guys do."

Garrus blinked in bemusement. He hadn't been operating at even half the level customary for him in his sessions to stave off insomnia. Hesitating only a moment, he nodded and uncurled into a more relaxed sitting posture, shifting one leg so that he was straddling the bench. "Hard to get any results with this equipment," was all he said, as he reached for a bottle of water sitting by his feet. It was important to stay hydrated, after all.

Jacob stepped around the edge of his improvised equipment and eyed it approvingly. "Yeah, I get that. Not sure I'd get anything out of turian equipment either. Assuming I could reach the handlebars," he added with a faint grin.

A startled chuckle escaped before Garrus could control his reaction. To his further surprise, the Cerberus man leaned back against a nearby wall, crossing his feet at the ankles and his arms over his chest. The body language was supposed to be defensive in humans, from what Garrus understood, but instead Jacob made it look intimidating. Narrowing his eyes, Garrus realized the stance reminded him of his own, back in his C-Sec days, when he was about to start an interrogation.

"What can I do for you Jacob?" he inquired smoothly, forestalling the inevitable verbal dance before the man got to his point. It also gave him the satisfaction of seeing Jacob startle, and straighten, dropping his arms to his side.

"You and the Commander..." Jacob began carefully. "You two have known each other a while."

Garrus nodded. "Since before I left C-Sec."

"You guys seem tight." Jacob was studying him; a careful, watchful gaze that would have raised Garrus' hackles if he'd had any. Instead, it raised his suspicions and his caution.

"That's right. We're old war buddies," he said evenly. "Took out Saren, took out Sovereign, and about a half million geth along the way." Garrus didn't know where the Cerberus operative was going with his questions, but he knew he didn't like it. Maybe he just didn't like anyone asking him about Shepard.

Was it disloyal to talk about her when she wasn't here? It felt like it, as if there were something wrong in doing so. Garrus couldn't help the awkward, uncomfortable movement he made.

Jacob must have noticed, for he gave a quick grin and held up a hand. "Easy, Vakarian. I'm not snooping on the Commander. But you know her better than anyone on the ship. She's got this habit of checking in with her crew, always asking how things are going, get to know what makes us tick I guess. She always been like that?"

Did he know her best? Garrus wasn't sure of that. Joker and Dr Chakwas had served with her longer; they had been her crew on the Normandy since before he joined. But neither had gone into battle with her and Garrus knew better than most that Shepard was most real and alive on the battlefield. He considered Jacob's question carefully, then gave a graceful turian shrug. "She likes to know her crew. When we were up against Saren, it made sense. Still does." He kept his gaze level on Jacob's, neither blinking nor looking away, as he waited to see what the other man was really asking.

"Is it for real?"

The earnest tone of the question gave Garrus pause. Now he suddenly understood that Jacob was asking whether he could trust the Commander, really trust her. The turian relaxed again, his mandibles shifting into a more comfortable expression. "It's for real. Everything she does is for real. She doesn't pull any punches, and when she says something, she means it."

It didn't feel so bad, to be saying _nice_ things about Shepard. Garrus decided he could get on board with this whole discussing the Commander thing if it stayed like this.

Jacob rubbed at his face with the towel, dropping his gaze as he did so. "Cerberus isn't like that. Neither is the Alliance, not really. I never had a CO who'd stop by after a mission for friendly heart to hearts and not have some ulterior motive."

"If you've got something to tell her, Jacob, she'll listen."

The human man grimaced. "It's not so much something I've got to tell her. More like a favor."

_Ahhhh_. Garrus felt the last puzzle piece click into place, and he stood slowly. "You're putting your life on the line to save the damn galaxy with her. Shepard gets that. Ask her – the worst she can do is say no."

The other man was nodding slowly, as if what Garrus had said had been particularly smart. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Can't hurt."

Garrus decided the friendly man-to-turian chat that they were having was getting a bit too friendly for his tastes, and it was probably a good idea to end it by leaving. Quickly. He stepped past Jacob carefully. "Good luck with it," was all he said as he headed straight for the doors. But Jacob's voice calling his name made him stop and look back in the other's direction.

Jacob looked even more uncomfortable than he felt. "Her and that Alliance guy on Horizon. Alenko. They were... close?" he ventured cautiously.

Immediately, Garrus felt his expression shut down, his gaze flattening into solid blankness. His features might as well have been carved from stone for all they revealed to Taylor.

Jacob sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, I figured. Forget it. See ya, Vakarian."

The turian turned sharply and made his escape to the sound of silent alarm bells ringing in his head.

_He _likes_ her. That Cerberus lapdog _likes_ her._

Garrus would never understand the finer points of alien courtship enough to spot them unless they were written in twelve foot high neon signs. But there was no way in hell Garrus Vakarian would discuss any observations he might have made along the way about Shepard's relationship with Alenko. Or hell, her relationships with _anyone_. They were nobody's business but Shepard's, and if Jacob wanted to pursue her, he could damned well grow a spine and ask her himself.

As the turian stepped into the lift at the end of the corridor, he wasn't sure where to go after having fled the gym. Shepard should be finished with the krogan by now – surely – and if EDI hadn't sounded an alarm, she'd probably made it through the confrontation intact.

Coming to a quick decision, Garrus tapped a sharp talon against the glowing '3' button. The lift ascended sharply and he backed up to lean against the wall tiredly. Garrus knew if he fiddled with the Thanix canon much more, he'd probably end up driving EDI insane, but the idea of hiding in his bunk right now only annoyed him further.

The lift on the new Normandy was designed primarily for crew rather than moving equipment; it was more compact and moved swiftly between decks. It was only a moment before Garrus stepped out onto Deck 3, coming around past the mess and heading for the main battery.

When he happened to glance to his right to check that the med bay was not currently housing an injured Commander Shepard, there was nobody except Gardner to see it.

To his surprise, when he entered the main battery, Garrus found a light flashing on his console, indicating he had waiting mail. The only people who knew how to contact him aboard the Normandy were his sister, and the contacts he'd been using in his attempt to chase down Sidonis. Garrus accessed the waiting message hastily.

The origin source was encrypted, which was enough to assure Garrus the message _wasn't_ from his sister. He leaned forward eagerly, talons sharply tapping in the decryption sequence and watching as the message resolved into legible text.

_Vakarian,_

_Your former friend has a talent for disappearing. I've seen no movement on his listed name, and you know how good my resources are. But you turians don't change your spots – or your tattoos. It really narrows down the search parameters. Since you seem to think he won't stick around the Omega Nebula, I expanded my net and got a nibble well outside that sector of space. A turian matching that description with some very dubious identification took passage on a freighter at the relay in the Caleston Rift. It's next port of call is the Citadel, and I've got eyes there watching to get a positive ID once he arrives. I'll be in touch once I've got more for you. _

_-Dalina._

Garrus felt his mandibles curve sharply in satisfaction as he read, and re-read the brief message.

Dalina was a former C-Sec operative, an asari in the transition period between the maiden and mother stages of her life. Once she'd felt the urge to settle down growing stronger, the former C-Sec officer had left the Citadel and 'retired' to a pleasant garden world. However, old habits die hard, and she'd ended up working as a private investigator. A little bit of thrill in her life, but a whole lot more stability as she approached the mother phase of life, especially once she assumed a managerial role over her team of investigators. She'd been a respected senior officer in C-Sec during his time there, and more than happy to lend him the benefits of her new career. For a nominal fee, of course. Not even friendship came free in this galaxy.

Garrus had _known_ Sidonis would get as far away from Omega as he could, as fast as he could. Any forged identity he had would have been hasty, and surely wouldn't withstand a detailed check, so he'd need new papers immediately. A good forger was easy enough to find on a place like the Citadel, and Garrus knew if he didn't catch the traitor before then, Sidonis would vanish into the galaxy under a new name, and never be heard from again.

But he had the bastard's scent now!

Freighters were a slow means of transit across the galaxy, and if Sidonis wanted to be out of sight and off the radar for a solid week or two, that was a good way to do it.

A week or two, and he'd have an answer. He knew it was Sidonis. He _knew it_. If Shepard kept her word to help him, Garrus would have that traitor in his scope sooner than he'd hoped.

"Am I interrupting?"

The Commander's voice startled him, and Garrus turned around at the sound. She was standing in the doorway, with one eyebrow quirked and a tired slump to her shoulders. A sharp glance assured him she bore no visible signs of injury or damage.

"Sorry, Commander. I was just in the middle of some calibrations," Garrus answered and gestured for her to come in. There was no need to bother her with half-baked intel, when she already looked weary. The turian watched as she crossed the main battery, taking her usual seat on the crate of tools against the far wall. It was almost automatic now for him to tap the door controls and lock them into privacy from Cerberus listening devices.

"How did it go with the krogan?" he asked with just the right degree of 'casual' in his tone, resolutely putting all thoughts of Sidonis away for the time being.

Shepard leaned forward on her knees and shot him a wry glance from under her eyebrows. "He's calling himself Grunt. He's got every bit of Wrex's attitude, and no idea what to do with it. He's going to be a handful, Garrus."

The turian crossed his arms and leaned back against his console thoughtfully. "Do you think he'll be worth it?" Garrus asked dubiously. Her faint grin told him she'd already taken a shining to their new recruit, so he had no doubt this 'Grunt' would be sticking around. But the last thing Garrus needed on the Normandy was another pain in the ass.

"He's got good instincts," she answered, and there was a glint in her eye that worried him.

"Not as good as yours," Garrus said immediately. She hadn't ended up in med-bay, after all.

To his chagrin, Shepard just grinned wider at him. "I didn't even have to head butt him. I just told him what we were up against and he fell all over himself trying to sign up for the big fight."

Garrus eyed her flatly, knowing that grin far too well. It was her self-satisfied look, the same one she got when she had just landed a kill shot right between the eyes of her target. "Wonderful. An over enthusiastic rookie. Are you going to test him out on Haestrom?"

"Nah. I thought I'd take Jacob on that one. He's been cooling his heels since Omega, and he's getting a little antsy."

One part of Garrus was pleased to hear she'd be keeping her promise to make recruiting Tali a priority; the rest registered an unexpected distaste at the mention of Jacob.

"You're right, he is," the turian agreed blandly.

It earned him a sharp look from the Commander. "What? You two have a run in? I don't need to go shoot his high horse out from under him, do I?"

Garrus chuckled softly. "Right," he drawled back at her. "Because you get to play protector after you banned me from deck four today?" He pinned her with his gaze, watching the initial spark of defiance fade into an expression of sheepishness, before she dropped her eyes in acknowledgement. He was surprised, but pleased that she appeared to accept his point. "It's fine. I told you, everybody's playing nice on the Normandy. Jacob was asking about you, that's all."

He wasn't going to mention the other thing. He _wasn't._

"Huh. Okay. I'll stop by after the debriefing."

He _wasn't._

"You shouldn't have gone in there alone, Shepard."

Well, he hadn't intended to say _that_, either. Garrus shifted uncomfortably when she looked at him in surprise, or maybe it was annoyance. He could usually read Shepard better than any other human, but the intricacies of human expression still eluded him at times.

_Questioning your commanding officer... Way to go, Vakarian. This is going to end _brilliantly.

Shepard's attention was fixed on him; that sharp, intense stare that made one feel not unlike bacteria under Mordin's microscope. Garrus closed his eyes, and wished heartily that he had the good doctor handy to surgically extract his foot from his mouth. He exhaled sharply.

"Shepard, I don't –"

When he opened his eyes, she was right in front of him, barely a foot away. Garrus snapped his jaw shut in alarm, staring down at the Commander; she could barely reach his chest, but he had no doubt she could kick his ass all over the main battery if she chose.

"It's okay, Garrus. I asked you to step up and be my right hand man. Then I went into a dangerous and unpredictable situation solo, without any backup."

Her eyes were luminous under the bright lighting of the main battery, and Garrus wondered how vindication could make him feel like even _more_ of a jackass. "You're the Commander, Shepard. You call the shots, you make the rules. I shouldn't have... questioned that."

To his bemusement, Shepard just rolled her eyes at him.

"Garrus, come on. You're the only one on this damn ship who _can_ question me... Who _should_ question me." Shepard's mouth twisted into a small human smile. Startled, he watched as she lifted a hand to rest it lightly against his arm in silent apology. Without his armor, he could feel the warmth of her flesh radiating through his sleeve and brushing the plating beneath it.

The surreal nature of the moment made his brain crack a little, and Garrus found himself speaking quickly without really knowing what was coming out of his mouth. "Krogans react to strength, you needed to prove from the get-go that you were strong enough for him to follow. If you'd had backup, he would have taken that as a sign of weakness. You would have _had_ to fight him to prove your strength. Having me there would have made the situation... _more_ dangerous for you. Not less."

Shepard nodded. "That's true."

Garrus stared down at her in dawning comprehension. "You knew that when you kicked me out." She nodded again. "Then it was the right call. It was the _smart_ call."

The infuriating woman grinned up at him. "It was."

He studied her unrepentant expression and grimaced. "Dammit, Shepard, if you stop inviting me to all the interesting parties, I'm going to think you don't like me anymore," Garrus finally retorted in a low drawl.

Shepard snorted. "EDI said you'd behaved yourself and followed orders. Even if you didn't agree with them."

Why was it that talking to Shepard had the result of either making him feel ten feet tall... or confused as hell? It seemed to be a fifty-fifty split. Right now, Garrus had the strangest feeling that maybe she hadn't particularly wanted him to obey this order.

"Isn't that the point of being a soldier, Shepard?" the turian asked cautiously.

"Soldiers have a tendency to get tunnel vision – a bit like snipers. I can't afford to do that, or the Collectors will flank me and kick my ass before I even see them coming."

Garrus blinked slowly, grappling with the idea. _Is that what happened on Omega? I couldn't see the bigger picture? I was so focussed on the mission, I didn't see Sidonis' betrayal until it was too late... Tunnel vision. Damn._

It was a clear lesson, and one he had to learn fast and hard. He thought of Harbinger speaking Shepard's name back on Horizon, and realized he couldn't afford to be that narrow anymore. Garrus couldn't afford to repeat his mistakes from Omega. He wasn't going to lose another team.

"So now what?" the turian demanded. "If we have an overly enthusiastic krogan, we can't keep him leashed up. Wrex was bad enough and he had more self control than most krogans I've seen."

Shepard directed a speculative glance at him. "Before I can send him out into the field, I need to have a better idea of his capabilities. Test him out for me, hey big guy? He's settling down in the cargo hold now, but I've got to debrief with the Illusive Man."

"Sure, Shepard. Let's hope Papa Okeer didn't read him any history books about the genophage while he was in the tank," Garrus muttered, shaking his head. "What do I get if _I_ head butt him into submission?"

"I'll hold your hand while Dr Chakwas patches you up afterwards."

Garrus looked over to catch her smirking at him. "You're all heart, Commander. But I'd rather not have Jacob come gunning for me." The words were barely past his mandibles when Garrus froze awkwardly, frantically wishing he could recall them. Hadn't he already made a plan, a quite satisfactory plan, in which he _wasn't _going to mention this?

Shepard wasn't an idiot, and her suddenly stiff body language showed she'd caught the subtext plain enough. "Jacob?"

Awkwardly, the turian shrugged and looked away from her direct gaze. "Yeah... He, uh... It looks like you've got a... uh... fan," he managed to get out, unable to look her in the eye.

"Ahh." Shepard gave him an equally uncomfortable look in return, rubbing the back of her neck with embarrassment. "Yeah. I kind of got that impression. I think he misinterpreted some... Well, maybe he took it wrong when I stopped by to talk once or twice." She shot him a rueful look. "Guess I'd better set him right before he embarrasses himself too much. Did he... uh... _say_ something to you?"

The expression of dawning horror on her face was too much for him; it was rare to see Shepard looking so discomfited. It broke through the awkwardness of the moment and made Garrus laugh briefly. "Not exactly. But I think there's something he wants to ask you. Not about that."

"Great." Shepard sighed heavily.

The turian smirked. "Debrief with the Illusive Man doesn't sound so bad now, does it?"

She gave a surprised bark of laughter and shoved at his shoulder in rebuke. "Thanks, big guy. You go take care of Grunt, I'll deal with Jacob. Meet you in my cabin after dinner to go over the Haestrom mission plans?"

"It's a date, Commander."

Chuckling under her breath, Shepard left the main battery and he heard the door close behind her. In the silence that filled the small room with her absence, Garrus recognised that he'd gotten off lucky with his inadvertent slip. Or maybe Jacob was right, and one of the benefits of being her old war buddy was that Garrus could broach more topics with her than he'd realized.

That was an interesting idea.

Of course, Garrus didn't doubt for a heartbeat, that if their positions had been reversed and she'd learned a turian woman had a crush on him, Shepard wouldn't have stopped teasing him about it for _weeks._ Possibly months.

Shaking his head to dismiss the whole issue of Jacob Taylor and the unfathomable matter of human mating rituals, Garrus turned back to his console and accessed the mail program again. The prospect of getting his talons on Sidonis was far more appealing right now. A quick review of Dalina's message made it clear that there was too much chance the traitor could leave the Citadel before Garrus could get there. If it _was_ Sidonis - and he was sure of it - then Garrus would need to delay the traitor, keep him stuck on the Citadel until the Normandy could get there. Garrus considered the dilemna for a moment, then his mandibles curved in satisfaction.

Methodically, Garrus tapped his long, sharp talons against the small, human-sized keyboard as he composed a message to an old friend still living on the Citadel.

_Alzien,_

_A turian from Gerava Colony will be arriving on a freighter from the Caleston Rift in seven days. He will be looking to procure an illegal ID as quickly as possible, and I need him delayed until I can get there. Hold him up in customs for the full 48 hours, and run the full quarantine on him. That should give me the time I need. I'll consider this payment in full for not reporting that incident with you and the Ambassador's niece in the Presidium pools._

_-Garrus._

The message vanished with the click of a key and Garrus exhaled slowly in satisfaction. Dalina's people would verify it was Sidonis, Alzien would stop him from getting new ID and vanishing before Garrus could get there. He and Shepard would be done with Haestrom by then, and he could broach the topic of a stop by the Citadel.

_If_ she agreed...

Garrus shook his head in certainty. _Shepard keeps her word._ She would take him to the Citadel, and he would kill Sidonis.

For the first time in hours, Garrus felt the restless tension ease out of his lean frame. He would take Shepard with him, when he went after Sidonis.

He didn't trust anyone else to have at his back.


	8. Chapter 7: That Deep Sworn Vow

**A/N** - I have to admit, I wanted to write more of Tali into this chapter, but it just didn't happen. I'm hoping to explore both Shepard and Garrus' peripheral friendships with other crew along the way, so expect to see more of the other characters in future chapters.

Much love to the many readers who have faved, and reviewed this story. FF.N doesn't alert when I upload new versions of older chapters, so please note that I've rewritten the prologue into something a bit more fitting. The original version was drummed out in 15 minutes before work one morning, as an experiment to see whether I'd enjoy writing in this fandom. Clearly I did, as I have no intention of stopping anytime soon! :) 

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What Shepard wanted more than anything else, was to get the hell _off_ Aeia.

The planet was pretty enough, like most garden worlds. But everywhere she looked, she saw signs of the tragedy that had occurred here. It was visible in the ragged, pathetic attempt at a camp built by the women of the crew. The broken remnants of the LOKI mechs that she, Garrus and Jacob had destroyed on their way in. The silent, staring faces of the survivors. All of it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Breakdown of command was one thing; she could have accepted a mutiny. But Ronald Taylor's abuse of his crew was so extreme that for a long, chilling moment, Shepard had wanted to leave him here to be torn apart by his victims.

In the end, though, she was still an Alliance Commander. Shepard had called in the Alliance, Miranda had called in certain obscure civilian aide branches of Cerberus, and now the planet was teeming with helpful volunteers trying to soothe the traumatised crew of the _Hugo Gernsback_. Some of the volunteers wore Alliance uniforms. Some of them wore the uniforms and Cerberus insignia of the Normandy crew. The rest lacked any insignia at all, but Shepard knew the Illusive Man signed their pay checks too.

"Commander, the _Gallipoli_ is confirming that they have received Captain Taylor," Kelly Chambers reported over Shepard's radio. The perky yeoman had been on-planet with the first shuttle full of Normandy crew, using her alleged counselling skills to help assess the survivors. But once the Alliance frigate _Gallipoli_, and the 'civilian' ship of volunteer helpers had shown up, Chambers had retreated to the Normandy to liaise from there.

Shepard grimaced. "Just Taylor, Kelly. He's not a Captain anymore. Thanks for the heads up, we'll be back on board shortly."

"Understood, Commander."

There was a faint click as the radio link closed down, and Shepard tracked her gaze across the triage centre spread over the women's camp. There had been no way she was letting Jacob within ten feet of his father right now, and delaying their return to the ship had seemed a sensible precaution. Jacob had been keeping out of the way, since his resemblance to his father was so alarming to the survivors. She watched him momentarily, resting on a crate on the far side of the camp and staring broodingly across the sea of walking wounded.

"It is still so hard to believe," a familiar, accented voice said softly to her right. Shepard glanced sideways and saw Tali also staring in Jacob's direction. "That anyone could do such a thing to their own crew."

Like Chambers, Tali had been one of the first on-planet when Shepard called her crew down to help deal with the impaired survivors of the _Hugo Gernsback_. The young quarian had always been enthusiastic, but her gentleness and patience with the victims had impressed Shepard today.

"Never under estimate the depths to which people can fall, Tali," the Commander replied quietly.

"Do you think Jacob will be okay?"

Shepard studied the Cerberus soldier for a moment. "I think so. But it will take time."

Tali sighed, the sound gently amplified by her suit speaker. "I feel badly for how I have treated him, Shepard. He is not a monster, even if he _is_ Cerberus. That bosh'tet who did this... _he_ was a monster. Jacob is..." She trailed off helplessly.

"Only human," Shepard finished for her.

Tali's head tilted up as she regarded the Commander, and then nodded slowly.

"Yes. Only human."

Shepard smiled faintly. Tali's aggressive hostility towards the Cerberus crew had been concerning her since the quarian came on board. If this mission had shown Tali that there was a difference between the organisation and the individuals, Shepard wouldn't count it a total loss. They would all need to be on the same page if they were going to achieve anything together.

Across the camp, Jacob slumped down further on his crate, looking as abjectly miserable as she had ever seen the suave young soldier. She let her gaze slide across the camp, passing Chakwas and Mordin and their volunteer Cerberus crew, coming to rest where Garrus Vakarian had stationed himself by the Kodiak shuttle.

Garrus had declined the option to return to the Normandy when the support crew came dirtside with Chakwas and Mordin. There was really nothing for a sniper to do in this situation, and his skill set didn't extend to offering sympathy and support. Shepard wasn't entirely sure why he'd decided to stay, since he'd pretty much planted himself by the shuttle and not moved for several hours.

He had been unusually tense throughout the mission, but as she thought back on it now, Shepard realized his general edginess dated back longer than that. He'd been reclusive the past week; snappish whenever he interacted with anyone, and avoiding everyone where possible. Anytime she'd passed by the main battery, he'd claimed he was busy calibrating the canon and couldn't be interrupted. The turian was clearly wrestling with something. It made his decision to stay on-planet even more puzzling.

Shepard shook her head and decided she'd have to pin him down sooner rather than later, and find out what was bugging him.

For now, though, it was time to get off this rock.

Shepard lifted a hand to her earpiece to activate the radio there. "Normandy crew, report to the shuttle for immediate departure."

In her peripheral vision, she saw Jacob leap gratefully to his feet; when she looked back, Garrus was already waiting at the shuttle door. Apparently, they were both as eager to get back to the Normandy as she was.

The remaining handful of Normandy crew still on Aeia had assembled in the Kodiak by the time Shepard had advised the _Gallipoli's_ on-planet liaison that they were leaving. There weren't quite enough bodies to pack the shuttle to capacity, but enough to make it feel crowded. Shepard dropped into the seat beside Tali, slapping her palm hard against the connecting door to the cockpit. At her signal, the pilot activated the mass effect fields, and she felt the shuttle rise upwards from the planet's surface.

_Thank god that's over_, Shepard thought with a relief that she suspected was shared by many of her crew. Jacob's expression was shuttered and carefully blank. Garrus, who was opposite her, was staring fixedly out a window. Tali sighed no less than five times in the two minutes it took them to reach the stratosphere.

"Shepard, when did that happen?" demanded a voice suddenly from her immediate right. Shepard turned to see Doctor Chakwas seated beside her, studying her in concern. The Commander stared back in blank confusion, until Chakwas grabbed her chin and turned her face, peering intently at the Commander's right cheek.

Shepard sharply repressed the instinctive reaction to pull away and levelled a condemning look at the doctor. Combat medics usually knew better than to get grabby with their patients. "What is it?" the Commander asked, careful to keep her voice low. They were at the cockpit end of the shuttle where the thrum of the mass effect field generators would mask their conversation from most of the crew, but Tali and Garrus were already shooting curious looks in their direction.

Chakwas was frowning. "The cybernetic scarring just here appears... aggravated. Is it causing you any discomfort?" She pressed cool, gentle fingers over the cheekbone, but Shepard felt nothing and made a noise to indicate as much. "The implant has definitely been traumatised. I warned you this could happen if the biofeedback became too aggressive."

Shepard gently pulled her chin out of Chakwas' grip, shooting the good doctor a very wry glance. "Doc, I'm a soldier. My entire life is too aggressive. It doesn't matter how positive I try to keep my outlook."

The older woman sighed and dropped her hand back, but her expression remained concerned. "Then I'm requesting permission to upgrade the med-bay equipment to repair the scarring surgically."

"We have more important things to use those resources on," Shepard reminded her.

The cost of the upgrade had been her reason for vetoing Dr Chakwas' initial request. In Shepard's opinion, it was an unnecessary use of valuable resources for the sake of cosmetics. The scarring was just something she'd have to live with; a reminder of what Cerberus had done to bring her back to life, and of what the Collectors had taken from her.

"It wasn't there an hour ago," Tali interrupted, looking at Chakwas anxiously. "Is it going to get worse?"

Oh, that was an alarming idea.

"It may worsen slightly... but either way, the scarring will be permanent unless I correct it," Chakwas explained in concern. "And further aggressive biofeedback will trigger more trauma to the cybernetics."

Shepard's mouth slanted into a firm line. "It doesn't bother me. My vanity isn't that fragile. We are not upgrading our med-bay just to get rid of a few scars."

Garrus leaned forward suddenly, inserting himself into the conversation as well. His lean armor-clad bulk filled the space, blocking them off from the rest of the crew as he studied Shepard's face carefully. She grimaced and wondered just how bad it looked, to put that expression on the turian's face. His familiar wicked humour lanced across his face, but it was backed up by something bitter and deeply personal.

"Are you interested in krogans now, Shepard?" he drawled with sour amusement.

It took Shepard a moment to place the context, and it hit her then that Garrus never referred to his own injuries anymore. The bitterness behind his voice now told her that it bothered him, though. Shepard shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She was self-aware enough to recognise that part of her reluctance to allow the surgery stemmed from the basic unfairness of it all. It seemed wrong that she could tinker with some equipment and get a facelift, while they could do nothing to repair the damage to Garrus.

The turian was wearing his _I have something on my mind_ face, but his edgy glance at Tali and Chakwas made it clear he wouldn't say anything in front of them. Instead, Garrus met her gaze head on, and his expression was all challenge. Deliberately, precisely, he turned his head so that his own facial scarring came into clear view. She wanted to look away - the reminder of how close they'd come to losing him never sat well with her - but it was clear that he was making some kind of point. Her frown deepening, Shepard forced herself to look directly at the ruined side of his face. She felt his eyes on her as she glanced over the mangled mandible, studied the rough artificial graft Chakwas had used to glue him back together.

The moment held, lengthened, stretched off into the distance. She looked across the lines of the Clan Vakarian tattoo; lines which had once been so familiar to her, but which were now distorted by the nature of the scarring.

And it was there, unexpectedly, that Shepard's courage failed her and she dropped her eyes away. Garrus waited her out. When she looked up again, his attention was focussed somewhere on her right cheekbone. Shepard sat there under the expectant pulse of his attention, and struggled to keep her face composed in the face of sudden comprehension.

_Subtle, Garrus. When did you learn to do 'subtle'?_

Because she hadn't realized until just now that her scars bothered Garrus, as much as his scars bothered her.

Tali cleared her throat gently. "Cerberus can afford the upgrade, Shepard," the quarian reminded her softly. "They didn't finish the job before they woke you up. Why shouldn't they pay to finish it now?"

The Commander kept her attention pinned thoughtfully to the ground by her feet for a long moment. Those broken lines of Vakarian clan tattoos flashed unpleasantly across her mind.

"Tali's right, Shepard." Garrus' low, flanging voice was insistent and sure. "There's no reason not to."

Her reluctance faltered under his firm encouragement. "Fine," she announced evenly. After all, it was a minor issue compared to everything else she was facing, and Shepard found it a little ridiculous that it had become a topic for group discussion. She made a dismissive gesture and leaned back in her seat. "Since everyone is so worried about my losing my stunning good looks, go ahead Doc. Arrange the upgrade and schedule the surgery."

Chakwas looked relieved, and though it was impossible to read Tali's expression, the quarian's body language radiated satisfaction.

Shepard avoided looking at Garrus. She didn't want to see the smug flash of triumph she knew she'd find there. Nor was she entirely comfortable with how well he'd pushed her buttons just then. She didn't know when he'd become capable of influencing her like that, but she chose not to question it too closely. It had the sense of disturbing things lurking under the surface; things much better left alone for now.

Fortunately, the Kodiak was a fast, sleek shuttle. Its contragravitic drives made the return trip to the Normandy a short one. Shepard had a moment to glance out the window and see the _Gallipoli_ hanging over the Normandy's bow, before they were sliding through the hangar bay doors and the shuttle was coming to a rest.

Home. _At last._

* * *

Shepard was entirely unsurprised to find another message from Captain Anderson waiting on her terminal when she reached her cabin. His first message had reached her not long after she'd come aboard the new Normandy, but she had never responded to it. She'd wanted to have more information before making direct contact with the Alliance. Unfortunately, retrieving the Hugo Gernsback had forced her to open the lines of communication again. There had been no other viable alternative; Ronald Taylor _had_ to face punishment within the Alliance.

Commander Shepard dropped herself tiredly into the seat at her desk and keyed open Anderson's message.

_Shepard,_

_It looks like you are alive after all. The Alliance sector command was pleased to learn the fate of the_ Hugo Gernsback. _Taylor will be met with a court martial and his actions will be punished accordingly. I don't know what you think you're doing out there, but let me remind you that according to Alliance and Council records, you are still technically dead. I can try to get that cleared up, maybe even get you reinstated as a Spectre, but you need to meet me on the Citadel immediately._

_Anderson._

Shepard frowned thoughtfully at the message for some time. When it came right down to it, she had too much to do for a detour to the Citadel. Tali's new multicore shielding upgrade was ready for installation; the young quarian had been frantically building the army of emitters and sensors designed to be attached to the ship's hull in order to generate the CBT shielding. They were already scheduled to go to Illium next to recruit the asari Justicar and an assassin.

Her gaze slid sideways to settle on the photo of Alenko still sitting there.

"I suppose a face to face is the only way I could find out what the hell _you_ were doing on Horizon," she remarked blandly to the image of her former paramour. There was little doubt in her mind that Anderson had been behind Kaidan's presence on Horizon. Whether it had been arranged to lure her, or the Collectors, or both, it had been clear to Shepard that the mission parameters had included the lives of the colonists as acceptable collateral.

That Anderson had been prepared to sacrifice an entire colony worried her. A lot.

It was tempting - too damn tempting - to ignore his message entirely. File it away with his original mail, and the half-assed attempt at an apology that she'd received from Alenko. But like it or not, recognised or not, Shepard was an Alliance soldier. Years of conditioning and loyalty won out over her lingering concern, and she composed a brief reply to her former captain.

_Anderson,_

_I appreciate the offer and if I have the opportunity to make it to the Citadel anytime soon, I'll take you up on it. But I think we both realize there are more important things going on in the Terminus Systems. I'll let you know if I track down anymore missing Alliance ships out here._

_Shepard._

The Commander stared tiredly at her terminal for a moment, then sighed. She'd just spent nearly twelve hours down on Aeia, and what she wanted more than anything else was to take a long, hot shower and let her exhausted body fall into bed. But the fancy fish tank and the spiffy Commander's uniform carried with them the weight of responsibility.

"EDI," she called and the interface blossomed into cerulean presence in the corner. "Let Joker know to point us in the direction of Illium and step on it. Then I want the updated CBT shielding installation schedule, the latest stats on Grunt's training, and any reports that came in while I was on Aeia transmitted to my terminal for review. And throw any travel advisory information you have on Illium my way as well." She'd never been to Illium before, and it wouldn't hurt to get acquainted with the place, after all.

"Yes, Commander," the AI responded smoothly. "Estimated transit time to Illium is three days, seventeen hours. Engineer vas'Neema and Engineer Donelly's installation schedule transferred to your terminal. Officer Vakarian's final review on Grunt transferred to your terminal. Reports from Dr Solus, Operative Lawson, Yeoman Chambers, and Mess Sergeant Gardner transferred to your terminal. Illium Travel Advisory information pack transferred to your terminal."

Shepard watched the files appear on the monitor one by one. She pulled up the first file and began absent-mindedly yanking off her armor simultaneously. If she were going to be here for a few more hours, she might as well get comfortable first.

* * *

Chakwas summoned her to the med-bay early the next morning.

"That was quick," Commander Shepard remarked as she entered the med-bay.

Dr Chakwas had been working at the terminal on her main desk. At Shepard's entrance, the older woman turned towards her. "We had the resources on hand. Once you signed off on their use, it didn't take Dr Solus and I long to arrange the upgrade. I notice you didn't waste any time getting down here either, Commander," the elegant grey-haired doctor retorted, standing and offering a faint smile.

Shepard bit back the wry grin that tugged at her lips. It was entirely possible that Chakwas would have made a more effective argument on the shuttle by simply holding up a mirror. Looking into her own reflection in her bathroom mirror, staring at the angrily glowing orange-red lines of aggravated cybernetics distorting her face, had been a sobering experience. Shepard may have denied she had any sense of vanity, but it was a difficult thing to look at your own reflection and not recognise yourself. She had a hard enough time grappling with her sense of self after her resurrection. The visible reminders of it had been deeply unsettling.

"Well, I don't want to scare the natives when we get to Illium, Doc," Shepard answered on a light note. "Where do you need me?"

Chakwas gestured gracefully towards a new surgical device installed at the back of the infirmary. It was fixed by one of the bio-beds, and the doctor indicated Shepard should climb up onto it. "This won't take long, Commander. I'm just going to give you a local to deaden the nerves around the implants first."

The faint hiss of a hypo injection accompanied Dr Chakwas' words, and Shepard felt the skin on her face go numb.

"Essentially, this is just a modification of a basic dermal regenerative unit, Commander, so you should be reasonably familiar with the procedure," Chakwas explained as she settled the device in place in front of Shepard. Under the doctor's gentle, but firm touch, Shepard was shifted forward until she found her face pressed lightly into a concave hollow in the unit. A strong scent of disinfectant filled her nose and Shepard realized the antibacterial pulse had been activated.

Chakwas was true to her word, and although her habit of maintaining a running commentary of each step she was taking was a little disturbing, the entire process took less than an hour. Eventually, Shepard sat back from the unit and let the doctor study her with professional scrutiny for a long moment. She was vaguely relieved when Chakwas gave a satisfied nod.

"That went better than I hoped. The area will be stiff and a little sore for a few hours." She turned away briefly and a mirror appeared in her hands. "Here, see for yourself."

The doctor angled it carefully and Shepard found herself staring suddenly at her own restored reflection. She hesitated, taking a step closer to the image looking back at her.

The horrific image she'd seen in her bathroom mirror that morning was gone. The angry, red-bruised lines of scarring were nowhere to be found. The glowing traces that had marred her spacer-pale skin had vanished entirely and the image looking back at her was the same one she remembered from before her death.

Something coiled cold and hard in her stomach unclenched slowly as she regarded her reflection.

She looked like _herself_ again. Shepard wasn't sure why that mattered to her; she had a vague sense that it shouldn't with everything else that was going on, but it _did._

"Thank you, Dr Chakwas," Commander Shepard said.

Chakwas smiled faintly. "After everything you've been through, Commander, I think you're entitled to keep your own face at least."

Shepard tried to smile back at her, but her face felt tense and unresponsive and she wasn't sure how successful the effort was.

"Off you go, Commander. If you feel any discomfort or pain, let me know immediately but I don't anticipate any complications from the procedure." She made a gesture to shoo Shepard on her way, then paused. "Oh, and tell that turian of yours to come see me. He's been hiding in the main battery all week and missed his treatment."

Shepard frowned, and she remembered her decision yesterday to find out what was distracting her friend. If others had noticed Garrus' recent aberrant behaviour, then it wasn't just her being overly concerned.

"I'll stop by and have a word with him," she promised the doctor. "I didn't realize you were still keeping an eye on him."

It was an unsubtle dig, but Shepard was worried. Had there been some kind of complication from Garrus' injury on Omega?

Chakwas must have read the alarm in her voice, because she waved a hand reassuringly. "Garrus is in fine health now, but he suffered some very serious damage on Omega, Commander. It would take a turian doctor to effect any aesthetic repairs; I simply don't know enough about their biology to attempt any kind of cosmetic surgery or dermal grafts. The best I can do is attempt to improve sensation to the injured areas. There has been significant success so far, but -" and Chakwas gave her a stern look, as if it were Shepard who had been skipping out on appointments, "-please remind Officer Vakarian that it is critical we continue the treatments on a regular basis."

"Sure, Doc. I'll let him know."

Shepard left the med-bay in a distracted mood. Garrus had never mentioned any ongoing medical treatment to her, but he had been remarkably close-mouthed about the damage he'd taken on Omega. Shepard understood now how disturbing it could be to look in the mirror and see something broken staring back at you.

_Garrus Vakarian, I think it's time we had a little chat._

Once past the med-bay doors, she took a sharp right and headed directly for the main battery. Unsurprisingly, the doors were closed again, but not locked. When they opened before her, she could see the turian in question standing with his back to her. The lean, armoured frame was hunched over the human-height terminal and she could read the tension in it as clearly as a map.

"Shepard," he greeted before he had even turned around. Was turian hearing – or smell? – that acute that he could identify her without sight, or was it simply that she was the only one who came to see him?

The doors closed behind her as he turned to face her. There was a restlessness to his movements and she could see the clamped jaw and tense mandibles which said more clearly than words that he had something on his mind. But it all faltered and stumbled into surprise when he looked directly at her.

"Shepard, you look... like you... again."

The brilliant blue eye not hidden by the visor was scanning her face intently. An irregular smile pulled in uneven bursts at his mouth, and Shepard recognised it as Garrus shifting mental gears to respond to the unexpected change in her appearance.

"I'll take that as a compliment, shall I?" she replied sardonically, and was pleased to see his frame settle into an easier stance.

"At least I don't have to worry about Grunt becoming infatuated with you anymore," Garrus replied. "Have you ever _heard_ krogan love poetry, Shepard? It's terrible."

His voice lacked that smooth purr it usually held when he was teasing, but he sounded more like himself and Shepard was relieved.

"The doc asked me to remind you of an appointment you missed." Shepard raised her eyebrows at him quizzically. "I haven't seen much of you lately, either. Something up, big guy?"

He tensed up immediately, which told her that whatever it was, it was big. "Yes," he answered, and the light humour had leeched completely from his voice. "Actually, Shepard, I'm glad you came by. I've got something." He was tight and focussed and eager. Garrus tracked her with glittering eyes as she crossed the main battery to lean on the rail overlooking the engines.

Shepard waited expectantly.

"I may need your help. You remember Sidonis? The one who betrayed my team?"

_How could I forget?_ She nodded slowly, a seed of concern settling into the pit of her stomach.

"I've found a lead on him," Garrus continued quickly. There was a spark in his eyes; the light of unholy triumph glowed there as he looked across at her eagerly. "There's a specialist on the Citadel, name's Fade. He's an expert at helping people disappear. Sidonis was seen with him."

_The Citadel. Looks like Anderson will get his face-to-face after all._

Though Shepard had known he was looking into Sidonis' location, she hadn't realized how close he was. Part of her had hoped it would be months – or years – before he tracked the traitor down, if he ever managed it. It was a big galaxy. People went missing all the time. The unresolved betrayal would eat at Garrus, but it wouldn't destroy him the way putting a bullet in Sidonis' brainpan would. Shepard didn't doubt that for a second.

But for good or bad, it sounded like they'd have their resolution soon.

"What are you planning to do when you find him?" the Commander asked slowly. She saw the tension in Garrus notch up a few levels. It turned savage; predatory and dangerous.

His mandibles curved upwards to reveal the white flash of razor-sharp turian teeth. "You humans have a saying: "an eye for an eye." A life for a life. He owes me ten lives. And I plan to collect."

Shepard buried her visceral reaction to that idea and kept her gaze steady on him. "You sure that's how you want to play it?"

He didn't hesitate. Didn't blink, didn't falter for a second. She hadn't really expected him to. Garrus had been playing this out in his head for weeks now, over and over and over again. His team dying, Sidonis paying the price for his betrayal. She knew exactly how determined he was to get his revenge.

"I'm sure," the turian replied tightly. "I don't need you to agree with me, but I'd like your help."

As if refusing were even an option. "Where do we find Fade?" the Commander asked.

Her acceptance was like a key turning in a lock. The seething intensity running through the turian released and he managed to smile at her. He was still eager, but more relaxed than she'd seen him in days. Garrus met her eyes with warm gratitude. "I've arranged a meeting. We'll meet him in a warehouse near the Neon Markets, down on Zakera Ward... Thanks, Shepard. I appreciate you taking the time to help me."

"You'd do the same for me, Garrus."

"Of course," he agreed. "But I know we're on a tight schedule and the Citadel is out of our way."

Shepard couldn't deny that. She might not be prepared to detour to the Citadel just to clear up her own paperwork, but this was a more serious matter. She had watched Garrus' behaviour growing more and more erratic over the last week, and she wasn't prepared to let it continue. He would become useless as a crew member, but more than that, she was worried for her friend.

Deliberately, she leaned across him to tap open a radio channel to the bridge. "Joker, plot us a course to the Citadel."

Joker answered immediately, sounding puzzled. "What happened to Illium?"

Shepard kept her gaze locked onto Garrus as she replied. "That can wait. We have a time-sensitive mission on the Citadel."

"Gotcha, Commander. Plotting course now, we'll be on our way in half an hour," the pilot called back cheerfully. The radio clicked off.

She'd surprised the turian and Shepard knew he hadn't really expected her to delay the Illium mission for him. Perhaps one of these days he would accept that he could rely on her as much as she relied on him. His independence in C-Sec, and his lonely position as leader on Omega, had shaped much of his character and while she knew he trusted her, that only went so far. His basic nature was suspicious and paranoid and sometimes even Shepard ran face-first into that side of him.

She threw him a mild grin and leaned back on the rail. "Anderson wants a chance to yell at me anyway. Besides, maybe I can arrange a meeting with the Council, see if I'm still as good at sweet talking as I used to be."

Garrus tilted his head at her. "They'll either shoot you or pin a medal on you. You have that effect on people."

"Thanks," she drawled back at him. "Don't worry, we'll go after Sidonis first. This one is your mission to run, Garrus. I'll follow your lead, but I'd like to bring some backup along."

Shepard didn't doubt for a moment that she'd have to fight Garrus on this one. His need for revenge was driving him headfirst into something he wasn't ready for. If she let him take that shot at Sidonis, he would change from the man she knew. She was watching him closely enough to see the momentary pause as he took on board the notion that he would be in charge this time. It worried him, and it wasn't hard to guess he was remembering Omega.

She continued on smoothly, before he had too much time to think about it. "Who do you want me to tap for this one, big guy?"

Tracking down Sidonis was a deeply personal quest for Garrus, and one he had only reluctantly shared with her. She saw him consider the question carefully, mentally debating which of the crew he trusted enough to bring in on this.

"Tali," he said eventually, slowly as if reluctant to name anyone. "If we have to take someone else, then Tali."

Commander Shepard nodded. "Figured as much. I'll let her know."

He nodded. "Thanks, Shepard." Garrus shifted uncomfortably, half-turning back towards his terminal. "Let me know when we're on final approach to the Citadel. I've almost got the canon's firing algorithms up to spec, and I'd like to finish up before we do this."

It was a dismissal but a more polite one than his usual distracted "I'm in the middle of some calibrations." Shepard summoned a smile that she hoped didn't reveal her worry, and made for the door.

She wasn't sure why it bothered her to see him shutting down like this - shutting her out. Since his return to the new Normandy, the turian had become someone she found herself relying on more and more. Both on missions and between them. The man she left behind her in the main battery was not the Garrus she'd come to know. This turian was brittle and blood-thirsty and obsessive, and it would effect his behaviour on the mission. He was likely to be impulsive and more violent than usual once they hit the Citadel, and Shepard would need to ride herd on him in a way she'd never had to before.

The doors closed behind her, locking Garrus into his isolation. She sighed, and set off for the lift, intending to head down to engineering. Tali would need to be briefed on the specifics of the situation, and Shepard wanted to make it clear that the quarian was to provide backup only. While she had no intention of letting Garrus indulge in his dangerously compulsive need for revenge, she also wouldn't permit anyone else to interfere. Shepard would do the job, shoulder the mission to protect her friend from himself as willingly as she'd assumed the mission to stop the Reapers. And for much the same reason.

She saw the need, had the skills, and damned well didn't trust anyone else to do it right.

Garrus had his quest and she had hers. Unfortunately the two were mutually exclusive and Officer Vakarian was about to go into battle with the Spectre who'd saved the galaxy. He just didn't know it yet.


	9. Chapter 8: An Eye for an Eye

**A/N -** My sincere apologies for the delay! I've had a lot of difficulty writing this chapter, which I'm blaming firmly on Garrus being quite sulky about the entire Sidonis situation. It was difficult to weave around the in-game content while still doing justice to it, and no matter what I did to try to distract Garrus, he wasn't having any part of it until Sidonis was dealt with. Hopefully we can all move on now, and future chapters will be up at regular intervals. :)

* * *

Garrus paced the length of the Normandy's airlock door, impatient and restless. Shepard wasn't late, yet – Shepard was never late – but he had been awake for hours already, unable to sleep, preparing for the mission. Now that they'd finally docked with the Citadel, he was more than ready to get moving.

He looked up expectantly when he heard footsteps. Tali paused for a moment, watching him with a familiar quizzical tilt of her helmet, before moving closer. Even though Cerberus' redesign of the Normandy gave it more space, her arrival meant he had to stop pacing to make room for her. Garrus felt his mandibles twitch restlessly, as Tali stood a few paces away from him. He waited for her to say something... wondered what Shepard had told her about his history with Sidonis... but she said nothing, and that in itself was unusual enough to make him uncomfortable.

"You know this is voluntary, right?" Garrus asked suddenly.

That damn head tilt again. After a moment, the quarian nodded. "Yes, Shepard told me. She also said you asked for me specifically."

Garrus heard the question in her comment and shifted awkwardly. "I did. I don't know... I mean, Cerberus isn't exactly... You're the only person on board, other than Joker of course..."

"He trusts you."

Shepard's voice interjected smoothly and Garrus looked sharply in her direction. She strolled down the passage towards them as casually as if she were going for a walk in a park, and threw Tali a cheerful smile. "What he's trying to say is he trusts you to have his back, and he's glad you agreed to come along. Don't worry, I speak babbling turian."

Garrus stared down into her smiling face uncertainly, and saw the look in her eyes that made her light humour a lie. That hard glint that said she knew they were walking into something painful, and she'd be there all the way. He nodded down at her. "You took your sweet time. I was about to leave without you."

"After you then, big guy."

With a grunt of satisfaction that they were finally moving, Garrus slammed his palm down on the airlock controls and they stepped through. He fidgeted through the two-minute airlock cycle, before the Normandy's outer door opened up onto the Citadel docking arm.

They'd been lucky enough to dock close to the Customs station, and as Garrus strode down the length of it, he realized in faint surprise that he had never actually expected to return to the Citadel. He found himself glancing sidelong down the corridor, now neatly carpeted and painted, with shiny new advertising calling out to them as they passed. When he'd last left here, it had still been a half-destroyed mess. They'd still been pulling bodies out of the rubble; now it was again a bustling commerce station.

There were clear changes, though, and Garrus wasn't sure how to feel about them. He eyed the two humans in C-Sec uniforms warily as they approached the Customs station.

"Your identification, sir?" the older officer requested politely. The other one gestured Shepard forward.

Garrus silently handed over his ID, and Shepard mirrored his movements. This place had been his home once, and that uniform had been his. Back when he had been Officer Vakarian, dedicated C-Sec officer and loyal son to a demanding father. Back then, his feet had been set firmly on a path that felt like it was crushing him until Commander Shepard offered him another mission.

He watched the Customs officer pause as she realized she was dealing with a former C-Sec officer – that was in his file – and then watched her continue on, knowing she never had a clue he was also a former Spectre trainee. That _wasn't_ in his file, because nobody cared about Spectres until you actually were one. Nobody except his father, of course, who'd had plenty to say when he'd stepped back onto the Citadel after leaving the Normandy, and promptly approached the Council about it. Garrus Vakarian, ally to Shepard, and member of the team that had destroyed Saren? They'd been more than happy to consider him as a Spectre. He would have been confirmed in the position two days after he'd learned of Shepard's death and the Normandy's destruction.

Of course, by that point, he was halfway to Omega, and drunker than he'd ever been in his life.

"Uh, ma'am... You're going to have to see Officer Bailey."

Garrus turned his head slightly to see Shepard smirking down at the confused customs officer who had no doubt just realized that according to their records, Commander Shepard was two years dead.

"Is that really necessary?" he demanded irritably. The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was bureaucratic crap.

The customs official leaned back in surprise, shooting a mildly concerned look over him. Shepard, on the other hand, took his impatience in stride.

"Ease up, big guy, you're scaring the locals," she murmured quietly, leaning into him so that her words stayed private. "EDI's hooked into the passport control system, she'll warn us if any turians are headed off-station in the next few hours. Miranda and Jacob can run interference to see if any of them are Sidonis. We have time to do this right."

There was an deliberate emphasis in her words that gave Garrus pause. She hadn't warned him to behave himself on this mission. She very _pointedly_ hadn't warned him to behave, and the weight of that trust and expectation was heavier than he'd thought it would be.

So he shut up and followed her and Tali into the C-Sec office, where Shepard proceeded to charm the pants off Officer Bailey. It was hard to stay silent as she dealt with the red tape surrounding her 'deceased' status, hard to keep himself from barking off questions when Shepard started asking about Fade. But with her usual charismatic ease, she sweet-talked the C-Sec officer into giving them some background information on Fade, including his connection to the Blue Suns. Garrus could feel the twitch of his mandibles as they shifted eagerly; Shepard spotted it too, and he knew she could recognise the underlying ferocity of his expression. Very firmly, she ended the conversation and led Tali and himself out of C-Sec.

"This forger seems well established here," Tali commented, as they approached a free sky car at the transit station.

Shepard threw him a concerned look. "Is C-Sec security that bad these days? I know I was dead for a while, but things have definitely changed around here. And I've never seen so many humans here in uniform."

She sounded like she didn't know whether she approved or not. Most humans would have been pleased to see their race taking on a more dominant role in the Citadel. Garrus decided it was a measure of Shepard's wisdom that she saw the inherent danger of 'too much, too fast.'

He sighed and climbed into the sky car seat after Tali. "After Sovereign's attack, this place was a mess. They were digging bodies out of the rubble for weeks, and the computer systems were completely scrambled. They took whoever they could get, and humans filled the gap. But I don't think C-Sec standards have dropped that much. They can't, in a place like this."

Tali gave a thoughtful hum. "You think Bailey was right, and Fade has an insider working for him?"

It annoyed Garrus to consider that as a possibility. He wasn't C-Sec anymore. Hadn't been for years, but he didn't like to see it compromised like this.

"Maybe. Probably. It would be easier than bluffing his way past the security watchdog protocols," the turian admitted. He didn't want to think about it too hard. C-Sec was his past, and he owed it no loyalty. The only loyalty he owed now was to Shepard, and his dead team.

Anyone else was fair game, as far as he was concerned.

"So what's your game plan, big guy?" Shepard asked, as she directed the sky car towards the market place in the mid-Ward district, where Garrus had arranged their meeting with Fade.

"He'll have security," the turian predicted confidently. He considered their options, as the sky car dropped to the ground outside the warehouse. There was no way Fade, or his people, could have successfully run this scam without hired guns. "I don't want this to turn into a fire fight. There's too much chance of Fade getting caught in the crossfire before he tells us what he knows about Sidonis."

The sky car touched ground and the engine rumbled into silence. Garrus shot his Commander a sidelong look, and gave her a tight grin. "Let's try this your way first, Shepard."

She grinned back at him so quickly that it was obvious she'd been worried he was running too hot, too close to the trigger. "I'll do the talking then."

When they walked in and the first thing he saw was the hulking lines of krogan heavy armor, he wanted to draw down immediately. Sternly controlling the impulse, Garrus kept his hands held away from his weapons. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tali doing the same, as Shepard strolled forward to greet the krogan bodyguards.

The volus that waddled through the door a moment later was a surprise to everyone.

"Fade?" Shepard greeted dubiously. "You're not quite how I imagined you."

"Looks... can be deceiving," wheezed the volus through its suit. Its head turned ponderously from Shepard to Garrus to Tali, then back to Shepard. "So... which one of you wants to disappear?"

"I'd rather see you make someone _reappear_," Garrus answered quietly.

The volus shifted awkwardly. "Ahh... that's not the service we provide."

_This can't be Fade_, Garrus realized with a sudden, sharp frustration for this pointless game. He didn't have time to wade through the layers of protection this forger had built around himself, just to get to Sidonis. He needed to find and break Fade fast, before the traitor got off-station.

Shepard shifted deliberately, catching his attention. Their eyes met in a single moment of tactical review of the situation. The scenario had changed; this wasn't Fade and they had nowhere to go except through the volus. Her head dipped fractionally in acknowledgement and Garrus let loose the reins on his frustration.

His fingers curled around his sidearm, and it was out and pointed at the volus in less than a heartbeat. "Make an exception," he purred encouragingly. "Just this once."

To Garrus' surprise, the krogans didn't react at all. Evidently, they weren't being paid very well.

"Shoot them!" the volus shrieked frantically at his bodyguards. "Shoot them, you lumbering mountains!"

Garrus was fast, and he knew it. But Shepard was faster, always had been. Before he could even aim, she had taken out the two krogans with clean, surgical precision. Garrus twitched his mandibles in satisfaction. Even as the two hulking bodyguards fell to the warehouse floor in echoing thuds, he heard the Commander purr softly, "too slow."

Behind him, Tali had her shotgun out, and all three weapons were smoothly trained directly on the volus.

Fade's decoy seemed to deflate in on himself. "Why do I even bother?" he moaned softly, staring in disgust at the dead krogan crowding up the floor.

Garrus lowered his weapon and backed up; Shepard moved forward smoothly, into the space he'd created for her. She took over the questioning at that point, and the little volus spilled his secrets without hesitation.

The volus, unsurprisingly, wasn't Fade. The real Fade was working out of an old prefab foundry in the factory district, and he was holed up nice and tight with a full crew of Blue Suns. None of this came as a big surprise to any of them, given what Bailey had told them earlier. But both Garrus and Shepard reacted with instant shock when the volus mentioned Harkin.

Garrus' head snapped down sharply to stare at the decoy. "Harkin?"

Shepard connected the dots as quickly as he had. "How the hell did Harkin end up being Fade?"

"Well..." The volus looked nervously between them again. "He got fired from C-Sec a while back. He used his knowledge of C-Sec and their systems to help a few people disappear. Then he made himself disappear, and Fade was born. So to speak."

Fade may have started out as an annoyance, an obstacle he had to work through to reach Sidonis, but this changed things. There was no way Garrus could deliberately walk away once he had Sidonis, knowing Harkin was giving the Blue Suns an access point into C-Sec. It wasn't even his father's voice in the back of his head that drove him. It came from somewhere inside of him that he'd thought had died with Shepard, a place that knew it had to be done simply because it was the right thing to do. It wasn't necessary for the mission, but it was... _right._ Once he had Sidonis, he'd make sure Harkin's operation here came to a sudden and inevitable end.

He could read the same determination in the Commander; in the sharp, savage lines her body suddenly assumed. He could see it in the cool smile she turned in his direction.

"I'm looking forward to seeing Harkin again," Shepard assured him.

"I'm sure he'll be excited to see both of us," Garrus drawled back at her. "We'll need to go to the Transit station. I can get us to him from here."

Tali was guarding the entrance, her back to them. But he had almost forgotten the volus until he spoke up nervously.

"So, uh... I, uh... I can go?"

Garrus turned smoothly to face the decoy, and considered for a moment. "Sure," he replied calmly and watched the volus' shoulders rise hopefully. "But if we don't find Harkin, we'll be back for you."

The volus' shoulders dropped again. "Oh. Good."

"If you're done intimidating small, defenceless creatures, we're about to have company," Tali called from her watch point. She turned to face them, hefting her shotgun questioningly.

Garrus watched the volus waddle back through the door he'd come from, and holstered his own weapon. "No more distractions. Let's just get going."

Shepard followed suit, and Tali clipped the shotgun back into its holster, letting him lead the way back to the Transit Station. In the corridor outside the warehouse, Garrus immediately spotted the pair of turians heading their way, both in C-Sec uniform. It was strangely reassuring to see the familiar turian outline filling in the uniform, and he spared them a nod as they passed by. They were new faces, both wearing the tattoos of Palaven, so while they nodded back in recognition of a fellow homeworlder, they didn't identify him as the former Officer Vakarian.

"I can call Bailey while we're on the way, and let him know who Fade is," Shepard offered a few moments later, as she slid back into the driver's seat of the sky car.

Garrus buckled himself in a heartbeat before the vehicle lunged forward with Shepard's typical finesse. "I'd rather wait, if you don't mind. A few hours shouldn't make a difference, but if Harkin has ears in the department, it will tip him off."

It felt strange, making that call. He knew shutting Harkin down was the right move, but that certainty ran smack up against the need to find Sidonis that was driving him. The turian shifted awkwardly, but Shepard just gave a nod of understanding. He had the impression that she was treading carefully around him, and that annoyed him.

But she didn't say anything, didn't push. Maybe that was all he could ask of her. She knew the call he was making on this one, and she'd agreed to back him up, even though she didn't like it. Garrus gave her directions towards the factory district, and Shepard guided the vehicle away from the market place.

"Who is this Harkin anyway?" Tali demanded, reminding them both that she hadn't been party to Shepard's first meeting with the man.

"A real slime bag," Shepard replied, her nose crinkling with distaste. "He was C-Sec back when I first met Garrus, not long before you joined the team. The guy made me want to apologise for being human."

"He wasn't the best representative for your species," Garrus agreed, distaste curving his mandibles out. "It sounds like your embassy stopped protecting him now that there are so many humans in C-Sec."

The sidelong glance Shepard shot him was wicked and amused. "You never heard Anderson go on about Harkin, I take it. Once he was made Ambassador, Harkin's days in C-Sec were severely limited. Hell, I'm surprised Anderson didn't just throw him out an airlock."

Behind them, Tali snorted in laughter. "You make him sound like a real charmer, Shepard. Does he really have the smarts to pull off this kind of operation?"

"Smarts? No," Garrus denied. "But he's cunning. Even with the embassy's protection, he was always careful not to go too far. He ran close to the edge, but he was skilled at playing both sides against the middle. He's an opportunist. Now that I think about it, I'm not surprised he ended up here."

"Playing Blue Suns off against C-Sec, and making a profit in the middle?" Shepard nodded thoughtfully, as she followed Garrus' gesture and guided the sky car off the main thoroughfare, down into the factory district. "Yeah, that matches what I saw of him. That volus said Harkin _thinks_ they're protecting him. Sounds like he's not as important to the Blue Suns as he wants to be."

"He always did have an inflated sense of his own worth," Garrus remarked. "Just down there, Shepard." He gestured with one talon towards the old foundry. It was easy to see that this part of the Citadel had taken hits from Sovereign's attack, but because it was mostly intact, it had been left as it was. Looking run down, but essentially sturdy. Last time he'd been on the Citadel, the foundry had closed down due to the owners' financial difficulties. It looked like it was under new management now, though, because even from here, he could see it was a hive of activity.

"Damn," Shepard muttered, and kept the sky car on an obtuse line of approach.

"The main loading bay look pretty busy..." Tali was peering out the windows as they flew over the foundry, and it was her quick eyes that spotted their best option. "Wait, there! Shepard, take us down there. I can only see two guards on that bay."

Garrus shot her a grim look of approval. "Good eyes," he praised. He was already gripping his rifle in anticipation.

"We're going in hot," Shepard agreed, and they all felt the impact as the sky car dropped to the ground outside the loading bay doors.

Even as the sky car opened to let them out, Garrus could see the guards reacting. They were far enough away not to be an immediate threat, but he automatically scanned his surroundings for a good sniping position.

"Garrus!" Shepard hissed sharply. "There he is!"

Garrus spun back towards the doors, his eyes narrowing instantly on the human figure that was lounging in the doorway. Impossibly, he recognised Harkin even as the human identified him and Shepard in return.

"Shepard?" he could hear Harkin ask in shock, and no wonder, really. To the galaxy at large, she was dead. Even without knowing why they were there, Harkin was smart enough to realize that the combination of Shepard and Garrus wasn't going to end well for him. He gestured frantically to the guards. "Don't just stand there... shoot them! Shoot them!"

Without even waiting to see them follow through on his orders, Harkin backed hastily into the bay and vanished through the doors that led into the foundry itself.

"Run all you want, Harkin! We'll find you!" he roared after the disappearing human, as the two merc guards raised their weapons to fire. Garrus slid behind cover, just as Tali fired a shot over his shoulder; she and Shepard were already in position, and firing by the time he got his head in the game.

They had the two mercs outnumbered and outgunned, but the Blue Suns had the superior position. For all that, it still only took a few minutes before Garrus had an opening and took the first one out with a clean, sweet headshot. Shepard followed up a minute later and the second one went down. She met his gaze as she stepped around the crate she'd been using as cover and raised an eyebrow quizzically. He knew what she was asking.

"They'll be ready for us now, no chance of sneaking around. If you think the risk is too high, I can do this alone, Shepard."

Garrus ignored Tali's scornful noise at that gesture; his attention was locked on Shepard. The Commander was regarding him thoughtfully, as if he were some puzzle placed before her.

"We've been up against worse odds before. This may not be critical to defeating the Reapers, but it's still a priority in my book. I don't doubt you can walk in there and do this alone, _Archangel_." She smirked at him. "But if you want us, we'll have your back. What's the call?"

Garrus exhaled slowly in surprise. He hadn't expected this to be a fire fight, or anticipated that they'd need to walk through a Blue Suns base to get the information he needed. In all honesty, Shepard would have been well within her rights to pull her team out. Wasting them on his own personal mission when they still had the Collectors to track down would have been an unacceptable risk.

He regarded her gratefully and nodded. "I want you."

To his right, Tali made a sound like a choking cat. Shepard just grinned.

"You're such a smooth talker, Garrus," she teased as she moved past him. Garrus blinked in confusion, but she had already reached the bay doors before he realized what he'd said.

"Hey Tali, come get this door open for us. I want to get that little weasel, Harkin, before he goes to ground."

By the time Garrus got his scrambled wits back together again and joined them at the door, Tali was almost through hacking her way past the electronic lock. "You realize what we're likely to face in there, right?" He regarded Shepard carefully, still unsure of the wisdom of her being here. If she got killed here, because of him, with the real mission still unfinished...

Who was he kidding? No pesky army of Blue Suns mercs would take Shepard out.

The look she gave him suggested she was thinking the same thing. "Mercs, LOKI mechs, maybe some Heavy Mechs if they're feeling particularly feisty. They look pretty well dug in here, I think we can expect the worst. But I'll bet there's one thing they won't have waiting in there."

Tali looked up as she popped the lock. "What's that?"

Shepard grinned viciously. "A Reaper. So this will still be easier than my last fight on the Citadel. Let's go."

* * *

Shepard's estimation was correct. Harkin had obviously scrambled the troops, but Garrus noticed that the Blue Suns' approach here seemed to match what he'd observed of their tactics on Omega. The Normandy crew fell into a familiar pattern, as they fought their way through the first wave of LOKI mechs. Only once the mechs had been destroyed did the mercs send living bodies their way, and only when the Blue Suns troopers and legionnaires were bleeding on the ground did they send out the YMIR mechs. Garrus had noticed on Omega that the Suns ran their strategies around a cost-benefit basis. LOKI mechs were relatively cheap. Cheaper to train than mercs, at any rate, so they'd throw them away before risking their people. But the average YMIR mech was easily one of the most expensive pieces of equipment a mercenary band would ever own, so they were hesitant to deploy them in the field unless it proved to be absolutely necessary.

Garrus had a habit of proving it was absolutely necessary. At least this lot didn't seem to have a gunship in their armoury.

He also noticed, as they fought deeper into the foundry towards the factory floor, that they were being tracked by the overhead surveillance cameras. The cameras were no doubt there from the days this was a legitimate business, to monitor safety issues on the factory floor. He doubted the Blue Suns had ever expected their base to be overrun, but they were – or Harkin was – smart enough to use the technology to monitor their progress and plan the waves of attack that came at them.

It was the first real fire fight he'd been in with Tali since she rejoined the Normandy, and Garrus was pleased to see how quickly the three of them fell into old patterns. He could catch Tali's cues almost as well as he did Shepard's, so he knew when she was planning a move and could react accordingly. The three of them fought without hardly needing to speak, and it would have been almost relaxing for Garrus, if he hadn't been growing steadily more impatient with how long it was taking them.

By the time they came across an unused office area, he was almost twitching with his frustration. They'd been at this for too damn long; Harkin could have slipped out the back and vanished. It wasn't in his nature, and he'd know he'd be running from Blue Suns for the rest of his life, but the man was clearly a decent enough forger to know he could create a new identity. If Harkin decided this was too risky and he needed to just get out, Garrus would never find him. Or Sidonis. Worse, if the little bastard made the connection, he could warn Sidonis before they ever got near him.

"What the hell is Harkin up to?" he snarled softly as they moved into the office area.

Out of the corner of his eye, Garrus saw the quarian perk up.

"Maybe I can try to hack their system, get some control over those cameras," Tali remarked. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll see how good their encryption is."

Shepard nodded approval, and the quarian vanished into a side room, leaving Garrus and the Commander alone. The room they were in had a lowered blast door over a window that presumably looked onto the factory floor again. Garrus watched as the Commander punched the controls and it opened sluggishly.

"So Harkin's gone finally gone completely bad," Shepard remarked on a sigh, watching as sliver by sliver of the factory was exposed with the receding shutter.

Garrus leaned against the base of the shutter controls. "He was always a pain in the ass. But I'm in no mood for his games." He stared fixedly through the glass window that the shutter had protected, and into the factory beyond it. He could feel his mandibles twitching with his frustration. "If he doesn't cooperate, I'll beat him within an inch of his life."

Saying it, it didn't feel like an idle threat. Garrus wondered whether that should worry him. The closer he got, the harder it was to stay in control.

"You seem to be getting tense, Garrus." The caution in Shepard's voice told him he'd become obvious enough that she had to finally say something about it.

Garrus gave her a frustrated look. "Harkin may know _why_ Sidonis wanted to disappear. If so, he knows why we're here, and I don't want him tipping Sidonis off."

"You still planning to kill Sidonis when we find him?"

The question came out of nowhere, and surprised him. Garrus half-turned to peer down at his Commander. "That's the plan. It'll be quick and painless. Unlike everyone else he betrayed, he'll be spared the agony of a slow death." He offered Shepard a faint smile, hoping that would console her and knowing it wouldn't. "It's more than he deserves, but as long as he's dead, I'll be satisfied."

Shepard was looking at him in concern. He must be running too hot, to make her want to reel him back in like this.

"Garrus..." She paused and seemed to change her mind on whatever she'd been about to say. "Do you really think killing Sidonis will make things right?"

He sighed, curling his talons around his rifle. "I know you don't like it, Shepard, but I have to do this."

"Is there no other way?"

In another person's mouth, those words would have seemed like a plea. In Shepard's voice, they came out as a challenge. Garrus gripped his rifle tighter and looked away from her, from the brazen demand in her expression, and out onto the empty factory floor. "Maybe. But this is personal. I'll pull the trigger. And I'll live with the consequences. All I'm asking is that you help me find him."

Shepard's hand lifted in a soothing gesture. "You know I will, Garrus. You make the call, and I'll do whatever you need. I just don't want you to regret the decision you make here today."

"That's not going to happen."

He sounded sure, and he felt it all the way down. Garrus couldn't cope with the nightmares anymore, he couldn't deal with the crippling sense of failure, of betrayal. This had to end here, now. The only way it could end was with Sidonis' body on the deck, and Shepard had to know that. Didn't she?

He looked back at her and she seemed to surrender the point. Or at least, she changed the topic. "What are you going to do to Harkin if he won't cooperate?"

That was a topic Garrus could contemplate with far less ambiguity. "He's a real criminal now. Working for the Blue Suns. I should just shoot him on sight," he answered contentedly. Even under C-Sec rules, that would have been a justifiable decision. A moment later, he shrugged. "But... I need him alive, so I won't do any permanent damage. Just enough to loosen his tongue."

Shepard's expression was unreadable. "You don't need to hurt him to get what you want."

"Don't worry. Harkin's a coward. He'll talk long before I can really hurt him," he assured her.

She didn't look convinced. He knew he was worrying her, but he couldn't get into it now. Later... later, when they were back on the Normandy. Once Sidonis was dead. He could talk to her then. Right now, it was hard to think much past that point. It was like a bulkhead in his mind, and nothing beyond that point mattered until he reached it.

While they spoke, Garrus had been peering out over the factory floor, narrowing his vision down through the scope over his eye. A sudden movement caught his attention, and Garrus kneeled sharply below the clear plasglass window. Shepard reacted instantly, putting her back against the wall beside it, drawing her weapon.

"Did you see that?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"I saw... something." Shepard's gaze rested briefly on his scope. Garrus sometimes forgot what un-augmented vision was like.

It had been LOKI mechs, he was sure of it. Garrus risked another careful look and saw they had settled behind cover but weren't advancing. "He's getting ready for us."

"What do you think he's got waiting for us in there?"

His scope narrowed back in as Garrus went back to studying the area. "Not sure," he admitted. "Looks like an industrial complex... heavy machinery. Could be anything. Something's in there... probably more Blue Suns. Harkin's kind of trapped himself in a corner. He must have something in store for us."

Shepard nodded firmly. "Well, there's one way to find out."

"Right behind you."

Shepard moved, heading straight for the door where Tali was. The engineer met them with good news.

"Harkin's in a control room at the far end of this area. And I managed to get EDI hooked into their system, so she can keep us up to date," Tali announced smugly. If they'd been able to see her expression through the faceplate, Garrus strongly suspected she'd have been smirking. He felt a savage rush of relief knowing Harkin was still in the complex. He didn't have a clue what quirk of ego or stubbornness or self-confidence had kept the man from running, but he was grateful for it.

Between Tali's shotgun, Shepard's aim, and Garrus' self-admittedly unrivalled sniping skills, the three of them managed to push through the wave of LOKI mechs. Garrus got up higher, careful to keep his flank shielded from shots from the incoming mechs. He was firing rapidly now, only stopping at the last possible second to pop out the heat sink and jam in a new one. He lost Tali for a moment, in the maze of crates, but he moved around quickly enough to keep Shepard in view. Quick enough to see, but not fast enough to stop, a direct shot from a LOKI mech slam into her back.

Shepard went down, and Garrus squeezed the trigger of his rifle, scope narrowed in eagerly on the offending mech. Meanwhile, Shepard pulled herself to her feet and staggered back behind cover.

"I'm all good," she said over the radio, but her breathing was heavier than he liked.

"Stay where you are, I've got a shot lined up and I don't want you in my crossfire," Garrus snapped back mendaciously, and heard her acknowledgement. He took out anything that got near her for a few moments, waiting until he heard her breathing settle into a normal rhythm. "All good, Shepard. What are you waiting for?"

He heard the choked-off laugh she gave as she moved back into the fight. Grinning, Garrus moved with her and Tali, the three of them closing in on Harkin's position. Harkin was running out of mechs to throw at them; the LOKI were thinning out on the ground. Anything he threw at them, they took out.

Garrus could see Harkin in the control station at the top of the factory floor; he moved back down to ground level and regrouped with the Commander and Tali.

"He's up there. Looks like two doors on either side of the control room," Garrus murmured quietly as they crouched behind a stack of crates.

Shepard gave a sharp nod. "We'll take one side, you get the other. I don't want this bastard getting away from us this time."

Shepard and Tali kept moving for the closest door, while he peeled off and went around the back of the control office for the other door. "Go for it, Shepard," he murmured over the radio when he was in position.

The door was closed, but over the radio he could hear Shepard moving. For a moment, he was tense; wondering whether Harkin would pull a weapon on Shepard. It wasn't his usual style, he'd be more likely to run, but what if...

The door in front of him opened, and he caught a solid view of Harkin backing up towards him. Over the man's shoulder, he could see that Shepard had her gun pointed directly at him, and Garrus watched a smirk grow on her face.

"... close, but not close enough...!"

The man spun around right in front of Garrus, and the look of surprise on his face was pure heaven. But it was nothing compared to the vicious satisfaction he got from lifting his gun and pistol-whipping the bastard right across the face.

Harkin fell back, clutching his nose even as bright red human blood poured over his fingers. He was choking on the blood, or the shock of the pain; Garrus didn't much care which it was. He wrapped the three fingers of one hand firmly around the man's shoulder and dragged him across the room, relishing the impact shock as he slammed him full-force against a wall. Fresh blood welled up on Harkin's shoulder where his talons had pierced frail human flesh.

The forger's eyes opened with pain and shock, but Garrus was already there, right up in his face, purring softly down at him, "so... _Fade_. Couldn't make yourself disappear, huh?"

It was at that point that Harkin seemed to realize he'd misunderstood what this was about. Garrus watched his eyes slide past towards Shepard, then back to Garrus. He _saw_ the man switch mental gears, dragging out his most ingratiating voice and attempting to smile around the broken nose and the blood.

"C'mon, Garrus... we can work this out," he assured him. "Whaddya need?"

Revulsion swelled up in him so quickly that Garrus actually tasted bile at the back of his throat. He stepped back from Harkin, releasing him so quickly that the man fell to the floor. Shepard and Tali were watching, so Garrus felt safe turning his back on the man for a moment. His loathing for Harkin had just skyrocketed and he knew he had to keep himself in check. Losing his temper now wouldn't help him find Sidonis.

"I'm looking for someone," Garrus ground out.

He could hear Harkin climbing painfully to his feet, but his voice oozed smugness when he replied. "Well, I guess we both have something the other one wants."

_He thinks I'm here to deal?_ Garrus felt himself snarling, and he reacted without thinking. Spinning, and taking one long step that had him back in Harkin's face – the man held up his hands in alarm, trying to ward him off, but Garrus had the greater reach. His knee came up sharp, fast and _armoured_, straight into Harkin's crotch. There was a crunch from a place where things aren't meant to go crunch on the human body and the man... crumpled.

Garrus watched without expression as Harkin collapsed in on himself, retching and gasping for air.

"We're not here to ask favours, Harkin," Shepard explained calmly.

Harkin spent a few moments crawling around on the floor, making broken sounds and strangled whimpers before he managed to gasp out a reply. "You don't say," the forger mumbled, struggling to his knees.

Garrus watched him drag himself to his feet, fighting the urge to shove him back to the ground. "You helped a friend of mine disappear. I need to find him."

Harkin breathed in sharply and spat out blood. "I might need... a little more information than that," he wheezed back resentfully.

"His name was Sidonis. Turian, came from the-"

"I know who he was," Harkin snapped back in sudden disgust. "And I'm not telling you squat!"

Garrus was silent for a moment, wondering at the sudden defiance. It was more than just empty bravado. Harkin knew what Sidonis was running from, he was sure of it. He hadn't known it was Garrus, but he'd known _someone_ would probably come hunting.

Shepard's voice filled the silence, soothing but firm. "Harkin, this doesn't have to be hard."

Turning his head slightly, Garrus could see her standing there in her familiar interrogatory position; arms crossed, her eyes pinning the forger where he stood.

"Screw you," Harkin sneered back at her. His focus widened to include Garrus in his angry glare. "I don't give out client information. It's bad for business."

_He has no idea how bad this can go for him._ Garrus felt the frustration eat its way up his insides. He was within reach of getting Sidonis in his sights, and this asshole was playing games with them? His hands were suddenly curling claws into Harkin's shoulder and Garrus realized he'd moved forward, grabbed the man. A white heat was burning at the back of his eyes as he shoved Harkin back into the wall. His armoured knee planted itself viciously in the soft, meaty part of the forger's body and he crumpled again. Garrus let him fall, knowing the damage he might have done to all those soft, important organs in the human torso. His mandibles were curled back from his lips, exposing sharp turian teeth as he kicked Harkin onto his back and pressed his boot down onto his throat to keep him in place.

Maybe a little bit more forcefully than needed just to keep him in place.

Harkin was making strangling sounds and struggling. "You know what else is bad for business?" Garrus asked him through the white haze clouding his vision. He pressed down again and was rewarded with more struggling, more pathetic choking sounds. "A broken neck!"

Shepard's gaze was a weight on the back of his neck, but he couldn't bring himself to care. His attention was locked on Harkin, letting the animal behind his eyes show through clearly, and Garrus watched as the man slowly came to understand that it wasn't Officer Vakarian who was standing over him.

Officer Vakarian had died two years ago. All he'd left behind was Archangel.

"All right, all right!" Harkin gasped around his boot. "Get off me!"

He should. Garrus knew he should. But it was so much more satisfying to press his weight down a little more against the delicate throat of this waste of flesh pinned beneath his boot. More gratifying to listen to the broken sounds gurgling past those lips. More rewarding to watch Harkin's eyes widen further with something more than fear, with real terror for his life as Garrus watched and smiled and didn't move.

Shepard moved instead. He saw it out of the corner of his eye, a shift of her weight, and then felt a warmth at his back. Even through the armor, Garrus could feel her hand pressing lightly against him, and the weight of it ate away at the white haze clouding his mind. It sank through the impulse to just snap this bastards neck and be done with it, and it reminded him this wasn't just vengeance.

_He had a job to do._

Garrus stepped back sharply, and Harkin choked his way around a free lungful of air.

At least he was smart enough to recognise a turian on the edge of control. "Terminus really changed you, huh Garrus?" There was fear in those words, fear and a caution that Officer Vakarian had never inspired, but Archangel demanded.

Garrus approved of both. "No," he replied blankly. "But Sidonis... opened my eyes. Now arrange a meeting."

A gesture to the comm. unit against a wall was emphasis enough. Harkin looked away from him, to Shepard, and then on to the comm. unit. Garrus could practically see him debating whether to give in or keep being a smart ass, and he jerked his chin towards the unit irritably.

"I'm going," Harkin muttered, choosing the wiser course of action for very possibly the first time in his life.

Garrus listened to him initiate a communication line, and warn Sidonis his identity may have been compromised. It was possible Harkin had some kind of phrase or word that would be sufficient to warn Sidonis to go to ground. Making sure he was well within Harkin's line of sight, Garrus pulled his handgun out and inspected it pointedly.

In the background noise of the comm. link, he could hear the encrypted reply from Sidonis. And in the periphery of his vision, he could see Shepard frowning at him as he continued to study his gun. Garrus glanced up long enough to meet her gaze and saw disapproval there.

"You're not going to kill him, Garrus," she informed him without any room for negotiation.

He smiled faintly. "If I don't, he'll call Sidonis straight back once we leave and warn him to go to ground. They'll both vanish and my team will never have justice."

"Are you sure this is still about justice?"

Garrus blinked at her. "Of course it is. They trusted him, Shepard. We all did. And they paid for that trust with their lives."

Shepard lifted a hand to touch his armoured forearm lightly. It was unusual for her to make physical contact during a mission, and it startled Garrus for a moment. Then her eyes caught his again, and he was trapped by the intensity of her indomitable will.

"You're about to go over the edge, big guy. The other side is a deep, dark hole and I don't want to see you in it. You need to keep it together."

Garrus studied her, peripherally aware of Harkin arranging a meeting with Sidonis, but the bulk of his attention taken up with his Commander. He knew she disagreed with his plan, and it was habit to trust her judgement. But on this... no, on this, he knew what the right call to make was. Shepard didn't understand, she'd never been in this situation.

He broke his gaze away, shaking his head. "I'll be fine, Shepard. It's nearly over now. I need to do this."

There was compassion and concern in her face, but Shepard simply gestured behind him and turned away. Harkin was approaching, evidently having finished the call.

"It's all good. He wants to meet you in front of Orbital Lounge. Middle of the day."

Garrus nodded slowly. He knew what he had to do. There wasn't any other choice, was there?

"So... if our business is done, I'll be going."

The turian reached out one long arm and grabbed Harkin by the shoulder, pulling him in close. "I don't think so," Garrus advised him. "You're a criminal now, Harkin." The warm weight of his gun in his other hand was like an anchor.

The fear blossomed again in Harkin's eyes. "So, what... you're just going to kill me?" He tried for a persuasive smile, and it came out lopsided and unconvincing. "That's not your style, Garrus."

He could feel the pulse of Shepard's attention on him, knew she was waiting, watching. There was no judgement in her, only a silent, steady encouragement that seemed to pulse off her in waves. She was trying to watch out for him, and he got that. He did. There were things he'd have to do this day that might be a problem.

But not this.

Garrus made the call and shoved Harkin back. "Kill you? No."

Harkin and Shepard both exhaled in relief.

Garrus grinned. "But I don't mind slowing you down a little."

The weight of the gun lifted seemingly on its own as he guided it into a sweet shot aimed at Harkin's mid-torso. A gut shot, a slow kill. Slow enough that he'd survive it, but debilitating enough that he wouldn't be making any emergency calls the second they left the room.

It was a two second movement to lift the gun and aim it, but he should have remembered how quick Shepard was. She was there, her hand curling around his gun arm and yanking it back. The force of it was enough to spin him around to face her, features contorting into outraged shock.

"You don't need to shoot him," Shepard snapped at him, and he could see the anger brimming behind her eyes. She gentled her voice, her fingers curling carefully around his arm. "He won't be able to hide from C-Sec now."

She was right. Of course, she was right. She was Shepard. Garrus stared her down, anger and resentment falling off him, and she met him, stare for stare. Understanding, to his resentment. Compassion, to his anger. It ate away at his resolve, and Garrus sighed in frustration. He pulled his arm out of her grip, turning back to face Harkin.

"I guess it's your lucky day," he snarled at the man.

Harkin wiped sweat from his eyes, breath easing tremulously past his lips. "Yeah," he muttered. His face hardened, his tone turned bitter and sarcastic. "I hope we can do this again real soon."

_He never did know to quit when he was ahead._

From the corner of his eye, Garrus saw Shepard turn away to leave, and he moved immediately. One long step forward and a sharp movement, and Garrus head-butted the smarmy weasel. The hardest portion of a well-armoured turian head cracked solidly against the far less protected forehead of the human and Harkin gave a low grunt, clutching at his head slowly even as he fell back.

Garrus watched the man crumple to the ground in a long, silent heap. He was unconscious, and would be out for hours. If he woke up without a severe concussion, he could count himself lucky. But he would be alive, and there was no chance of Sidonis being warned off.

Smiling in satisfaction, Garrus turned to follow Shepard. She'd kept walking, though she must have known what he'd done, and it took his longer legs a few steps to catch up to her. There was resignation in the lines of her body, outlined clearly in the sideways glance she shot him.

"I didn't shoot him," he reminded her.

Shepard sighed. "Come on. Let's move."

Garrus chanced a look over his shoulder at the decidedly unconscious Harkin. "Sidonis better be there, or I'm coming back to finish the job."

"I nearly shot him myself," Tali remarked as they left the office. "What a bosh'tet."

Shepard pointedly didn't reply, and maybe that was all he could ask of her. As they made their way back through the foundry, dealing with a few LOKI mechs that had survived or repaired themselves, Garrus wondered whether he was over the line. He wondered who'd established the line to begin with.

All his life, he'd been living by someone else's rules, someone else's expectations. First his father's, which had been arbitrary and unyielding. Then C-Sec's, which were bureaucratic and hypocritical. By comparison, Shepard's rules had always been backed up with firm, solid logic, and she had never hesitated to explain herself to him if he asked.

He didn't know what his own rules were. Not his father's, not C-Sec's. On Omega, Archangel had used Shepard's rules as a guide, and made his own way, followed his own conscience. But Archangel had failed, and Garrus didn't know what to trust when Shepard's suggestions went against his own driving need to kill Sidonis.

He was grateful for the distraction of finally getting out of the foundry. The waiting sky car was a pointed reminder that they were getting closer to Sidonis, closer to justice.

"What's going to happen to Harkin now?" Tali asked as Shepard yanked the sky car up into the air and turned its back on the foundry.

Shepard considered that for a moment, and he felt her eyes on him as if she were expecting Garrus to respond. The turian clenched his mandibles tighter, because if he did answer, she wouldn't like it. After a moment of silence, the Commander sighed.

"EDI, lodge an anonymous report with C-Sec that they can find Fade in the foundry. Make sure it finds its way directly to Bailey," Shepard instructed firmly.

"Understood, Commander," replied the AI.

Garrus regarded her in surprise.

Tali leaned forward thoughtfully. "What if he's already gone?"

"I'm pretty sure Vakarian here took care of that."

There was a rebuke in Shepard's voice that would have worried him once. Now, Garrus looked back at her defiantly. "Harkin's a bloody menace. We shouldn't have just let him go, he _deserves_ to be punished."

Her voice was calm when she spoke, the voice she had begun using when they were alone in the main battery on the Normandy. The one that wasn't entirely the Commander, but something more personal. "I'm gettin' a little worried about you, Garrus. You were pretty hard on Harkin."

"You don't think he deserved it?" Garrus demanded aggressively.

Shepard shrugged noncommittally, her eyes fixed on the controls of the vehicle. "It's just not like you."

He turned away from her, staring blankly out the window. Garrus could feel the frustration welling up in him, the resentment that she didn't understand. "What do you want from me, Shepard? What would you do if someone betrayed you?"

He knew exactly what she'd do. She'd put a bullet in their brainpan.

"I'm not sure," she admitted slowly. Carefully. "But I wouldn't let it change me."

The gentleness of her tone, her manner, was not what he'd expected. Garrus would have figured she'd lay down the law; not this. He shook his head wearily. "I would have said the same thing before it happened to me."

Shepard took her eyes off the controls long enough to meet his for an instant. "It's not too late. You don't have to go through with this."

She was driving them to a confrontation that would end in assassination and trying to talk him out of it. It would have been amusing if it weren't so depressing. "Who's going to bring Sidonis to justice if I don't?" Garrus felt his hands curl into fists where they rested on his lap. "Nobody else knows what he's done. Nobody else cares. I don't see any other options."

"Let me talk to him."

The suggestion was so quiet, so out of nowhere, that Garrus stared at her for a long moment of silent confusion. Shepard could sweet-talk anyone, he knew that better than most. But he didn't want to talk Sidonis into turning himself in. He wanted to deal with the problem. For once in his life, he wanted something conclusive, something undeniable. He wanted justice.

Garrus leaned back, his head thudding heavily against the back of his seat as he closed his eyes tiredly. "Talk all you want. But it won't change my mind." He opened his eyes and stared directly ahead, tired, angry. "I don't care what his reasons were, he screwed us. He deserves to die."

Shepard tilted the sky car carefully as they approached the Zakera Ward's main promenade. "I understand what you're going through, but do you really want to kill him?"

He needed her to stop. He had his mission, it was clear in his mind, and he needed her to back off. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm not you," Garrus ground out.

"This isn't you either," she shot back immediately.

"Really?" he snapped back in immediate challenge. "I've always hated injustice. The thought that Sidonis could get away with this..." His voice faltered as Garrus felt his throat constrict with a kind of blind, white rage. "Why should he go on living, while ten good men lie in unmarked graves? I'm sorry, Shepard... Words aren't going to solve this problem."

They were there, overflying the meeting place before Shepard dropped the vehicle down to the ground. Garrus' gaze sharpened in anticipation of the mission. It was here, it was right here and right now, and he needed to do this right. He could feel the weight of that responsibility pushing down on him, the ten dead friends standing with him expectantly. He scanned the area carefully.

"I need to set up," he told her, gesturing with one hand. "I can get a clear shot from over there."

"You just want me to get him in position?"

"Basically. Keep him talking for a minute. When I've got him in my sights, I'll let you know. Give me a signal so I know you're ready and I'll take the shot." She was watching him intently, nodding faintly in understanding. It was surreal to give commands to Shepard, and he hesitated suddenly. He wanted to say something... something like _thank you_, because he knew she didn't agree with him but she was doing it anyway... except the words stuck in his throat. Garrus turned away and yanked open the door to climb out. "You'd better go... he'll be here soon."

The sky car felt too cramped and he was glad to escape it, slamming the door shut behind him. Garrus took a deep breath and filled his lungs, letting it out slowly. Shepard meant well, he knew that. She'd be pissed at him for this, but he had to do it his way. Archangel had to finish what he'd started.

Garrus climbed lithely up the catwalk, moving on silent feet across the mesh walkway. Beneath him, Citadel citizens meandered up and down the Ward, and even if they did happen to glance up, they wouldn't see past the glare of lights shining down at them. He was on the other side of that brilliant illumination, wrapped up in shadow with his fairground lit up like daylight.

The rifle at his back was a steady, familiar weight and it was almost soothing to pull it free and assemble it with the speed of long practice. He twitched his head, bringing the scope into focus on the ward beneath him, scanning the crowd slowly. Shepard and Tali were easy to spot. There were few quarians on the Citadel, but there was nobody like Shepard.

Even at this distance, he could read the edginess in her movements. The way she scanned her surroundings carefully. The two women were talking, but their radios were muted and he couldn't hear anything. "Shepard? Can you hear me?"

The Commander turned her head to Tali, gesturing for the engineer to back off. "Loud and clear," Shepard replied calmly, as Tali shifted back to lounge against the sky car. He knew the quarian would be watching events in case she was needed.

Satisfied they were in place, Garrus sited down the rifle's scopes, marking off his distance. The 100m mark pulsed at the bottom of the display as he zoomed in on Shepard, then he went back to scanning the promenade.

Sidonis would be here. Somewhere. Garrus shifted the rifle minutely, widening the range of the scope and caught sight of a turian slumped on a seat further down the Ward. The passersby between them were constant, but that first glimpse was enough for clear identification. The shock of recognition was like ice down his spine and he gripped the rifle tighter.

" All right. There he is... wave him over and keep him talking."

Garrus kept his voice low and calm, refusing to take his scope off Sidonis. He had the bastard in his sights. He wasn't letting him go now.

Some people assumed that being a sniper made you remote from your target. They thought because he fired from such distance, that he mustn't feel the chaos of his actions. They were wrong. Sniping a target was a strangely intimate experience. Despite the distance, the scope made everything feel up close and personal. As Garrus kept his rifle sighted on Sidonis, he could make out every line and stroke of the bastards clan markings. He could see the anxiety in his former friends edgy movements. He could see the caution in the man's eyes as Shepard waved him over and he approached.

The last time he'd seen that face had been when Sidonis lured him away to betray their team. The last time he'd seen that face, he'd thought it had belonged to a friend. Now, Garrus watched him through a sniper scope as intimately as if he stood even closer to the man than Shepard now did. Shepard moved into his line of fire, drawing Sidonis closer to her so that they stood out of the main flow of foot traffic along the promenade.

"Let's get this over with."

He could hear Sidonis through Shepard's mic, which meant he'd come close enough to speak to her. Sidonis was in position, and he waited for Shepard to move and give him a signal, but she didn't.

Garrus gritted his teeth. "You're in my shot. Move to the side."

He knew Shepard's body language, pretty damn well. He knew the defiant lift of her chin, and he could read it from the back of her head, which remained _firmly in the centre of his scope._

What the hell was she doing?

"Listen, Sidonis. I'm here to help you," he heard her say. Garrus froze in disbelief.

"Don't ever say that name aloud!"

Sidonis sounded on the edge. Garrus was too experienced to look away from the scope; he kept his attention focussed on it. Shepard's head remained squarely in the centre, and his finger on the trigger felt heavy and frozen.

"I'm a friend of Garrus'." He could hear her words over the radio, but they made no sense to him. "He wants you dead, but I'm hoping that's not necessary."

_Shepard, what the hell are you doing? Don't screw this up for me._

The distance marker pulsed at 31 metres, as he shifted again, trying to get a better angle for Sidonis. He could take the shot, but Shepard was too damn close to his line of fire, and if she moved at the wrong moment, it would be her brains sprayed all over the Citadel.

"Garrus?" Sidonis demanded. "Is this some kind of joke...?"

The bastard was down there, in arms reach of Shepard. She was shielding him with her own skull. Trusting that Garrus wouldn't take a shot that would risk her. The frustration was so bitter and fierce it tasted like acid in his throat, and he swore over the radio.

"Dammit, Shepard! If he moves, I'm taking the shot!" he promised her furiously.

He could see her head tilt, and he knew that movement. It was her 'listening' expression. Sidonis must have understood it too, because he began to look alarmed as he realized she was in radio contact with someone.

"You're not kidding are you?" Garrus could only see part of his face, but he saw the quick eye movement as Sidonis scanned his surroundings. "Screw this. I'm not sticking around here to find out. Tell Garrus I had my own problems..."

He moved to leave, and Garrus shifted eagerly. The son of a bitch thought Garrus would come at him from the ground. He'd forgotten Archangel's specialty.

Shepard hadn't. Her armoured hand grabbed Sidonis' shoulder, and at the very instant Garrus got a clear shot and went to take it, she stepped between them again.

"Don't move!" he heard her snap at him.

Garrus flinched back from the image of Shepard's head back in the centre of his scope. Sidonis spun around to face her, shoving her back.

"I'm the only thing standing between you and a hole in the head," Shepard snarled.

"Fuck."

Garrus echoed the sentiment. He could do it, even now. He could take the shot, there was no safety margin and Shepard would be at risk, but he could do it anyway. She knew the risk she was taking, stepping in front of a damn sniper!

"Look," Sidonis answered frantically, "I didn't want to do it... I didn't have a choice."

"Everyone has a choice," Garrus spat out furiously. He knew Sidonis couldn't hear him, but Shepard could. And suddenly this argument seemed to be less with Sidonis and more with the woman he'd considered his friend, and commander.

Sidonis was backing away. "They got to me," he babbled at Shepard. "Said they'd kill me if I didn't help. What was I supposed to do?"

Garrus tightened his finger just slightly along the trigger, but Shepard was still in his sights. The safety margin was too low. His teeth were clenched together so hard he was giving himself a headache, but he knew... he knew, he couldn't take the shot. He couldn't risk her. She had to move.

"Let me take the shot, Shepard," he pleaded. "He's a damn coward!"

Shepard was still focussed on Sidonis. "That's it? You were just trying to save yourself?"

Sniping was never a distant act. But this was too damn up close and personal for Garrus. He didn't want to see inside Sidonis' heart, he didn't want to know what sob story the lying bastard had concocted to help himself sleep at night. He didn't want to complicate a truth he'd become very comfortable with. Sidonis had betrayed him. Sidonis had to die.

In his sights, the other turian moved to the side, pacing. Each movement he made, Shepard echoed deliberately, keeping herself between him and Garrus' line of fire.

"I know what I did." Sidonis stopped moving suddenly, and so did Shepard. His voice sounded tired, exhausted... and familiar. Garrus felt his stomach twist as he remembered that voice from when it had belonged to his comrade in arms. His friend. He remembered what he didn't want to remember. The months of fighting alongside Sidonis. Celebrating victories together; long nights of planning strategy for upcoming attacks.

And now he listened to that voice speaking in barely a whisper, broken and sickened, and even Garrus couldn't deny the misery in it. "I know they died because of me, and I have to live with that. I wake up every night... sick... and sweating. Each of their faces staring at me... accusing me."

He didn't want to hear this. Garrus zoomed his scope in further, striving almost desperately for a clear shot. He didn't just need to end Sidonis. He needed to end him before he said anything more. He didn't want Sidonis to be a real person, complicated and confused. He wanted him to be a villain.

"I'm already a dead man. I don't sleep. Food has no taste. Some days I just want it to be over."

"Just give me the chance," Garrus managed to say around a throat that was clenching his vocal chords.

Shepard was firmly in his line of fire, and not moving anytime soon. But her voice in his ear was soft, and gentle. Too damn close. "You've got to let it go, Garrus. He's already paying for his crime."

"He hasn't paid enough. He still has his life..."

She moved then, half turning away from Sidonis. Towards him. "Look at him, Garrus. He's not alive. There's nothing left to kill."

"My men... they deserved better," he said faintly. In the back of his brain, Archangel was snarling that he take the shot. That Sidonis deserved to die, because even a life of misery was still one life more than his team had.

Sidonis couldn't hear what he was saying, but it was clear enough that Shepard was in communication with him. He stirred himself as if waking from a dream. "Tell Garrus... I guess there's nothing I can say to make it right."

Garrus felt like throwing up. He could see Shepard's face half-turned towards him, filling the scope and he knew he'd never be able to take the shot. She stood between him and murder, and for a heartbeat, he didn't think he'd be able to make the kill even if she stood aside.

"Just... go." His head dropped in defeat, turning away from the scope to rest his uninjured cheek against the cool length of the rifle. "Tell him to go..."

He couldn't bear to look back. Shepard's final words to Sidonis were too audible for him to ignore, but he tried not to hear Sidonis thanking her for saving his life. Promising to make amends.

There would be no amends. There could never be amends. And now, there could never be justice either. Or revenge. Whatever it was Garrus had been after, he'd get nothing now. He sat there for a length of time he couldn't measure, feeling the metallic chill of his rifle under his skin and trying to breathe steadily. He knew Shepard could hear him over the radio, knew the link was still active, but she said nothing. She just waited, her breathing so even and quiet he couldn't hear it.

The sounds of the Citadel shoppers below were muted and ignorant of how close they'd come to witnessing an assassination. Garrus felt so utterly disconnected from them, up here in his eyrie, hidden in the dark. Sidonis was gone when he looked up, and Shepard was back at the sky car.

Climbing back down was a slow process, his body sluggish and almost unresponsive. Garrus didn't know what to think, what to do now. On slow, heavy feet, he approached Shepard where she watched him without expression.

"I know... you want to talk about this," he said as soon as he got within range. "But I don't. Not yet."

She nodded in understanding. "I know it didn't go the way you planned. But I think it's for the best."

Garrus jerked his head, shifting edgily. "I'm not so sure..."

He looked at her and her gaze was so familiar to him. That calm compassion, that silent strength and determined understanding. Shetrusted him. She'd trusted him enough to put herself in the line of fire for a traitor. And he suddenly realized that it wasn't to save Sidonis. It was to save Garrus.

"Give it time," Shepard said quietly.

"Yeah. Maybe that'll be enough... I want to know I did the right thing. Not just for me – for my men. They deserve to be avenged." He looked up at her in confusion, almost beseeching her for some kind of answer. He could hear the frustration in his own voice. "But when Sidonis was in my sights... I just couldn't do it."

Tension eased out of her in a strange, liquid movement, and she smiled. It was a small smile, but more genuine than any he'd seen on her in days. "The lines between good and evil blur when we're looking at people we know."

Garrus thought of the agony he'd heard in Sidonis' voice. Sidonis had known what he'd done wrong and had suffered for it. Was that enough? "There was still good in him... I could see it." He shook his head in confusion, staring back at Shepard in blank uncertainty. "It's so much easier to see the world in black and white. Gray...? I don't know what to do with gray."

"You've got to go with your instincts," Shepard advised.

He laughed bitterly. "My _instincts_ are what got me into this mess."

When he'd left the Citadel to become a vigilante, embracing the thing his father hated most, he'd thrown off forever the shackles of _Officer Vakarian_, and his old life. He'd thought being Archangel was all he had left. For whatever reason, it seemed Shepard was determined to prove him wrong.

She moved unexpectedly. Suddenly she was right there, in his space, closer than she usually got to him but somehow not invading either. Her gloved hand pressed against his arm, those small human fingers curling comfortingly around his armoured forearm. "Don't be too hard on yourself."

Garrus looked down at her uncertainly. She met his gaze calmly, and without hesitation. There was something there, something he thought he should recognise, but his thoughts were still buzzing and impossible to put in any kind of order. He smiled faintly back at her, and knew it looked ghastly. "Thanks Shepard. For everything. Let's get going. I need some distance from this place."

She gripped his arm tightly for a moment, then let go. "I'm with you."


	10. Chapter 9: Hiding Amid the Cargo

**A/N - **Thank you to all those who have stuck with me on this story! Your support keeps me motivated, and the reviews keep me writing. :)

This was a bit of an odd chapter for me. Shepard's epiphany at the end wrote itself, and the rest of the chapter evolved around that. Sadly, I had to cut out a number of scenes I quite liked, and Anderson didn't get as much time as I'd have liked... but I hope you enjoy anyway.

* * *

The Citadel's Presidium stretched out far below, full of clean, sleek lines and dark green patches of parklands. Fully aware of the scrutiny from the man standing beside her, Shepard stared fixedly across the Presidium. She found herself in the unfortunate position of having no idea what the hell to say to her former CO. While the meeting with the Council had gone better than she'd hoped, not as badly as she'd feared, it still left her trying to explain her current involvement with Cerberus to Anderson. She knew he wasn't happy about it, but it was her call and she wasn't about to apologise for it. Besides, she wasn't entirely satisfied by his explanation for the Horizon situation either.

"At least you didn't bring one of your Cerberus crew along," Anderson said with a sigh. "That wouldn't have gone down well."

For a moment, Shepard let herself picture Miranda going toe to toe with the Council. Their autocratic absolutism smack bang up against Miranda's razor-sharp intelligence and ego... She didn't know which party would be more frustrated by the end of it, but she knew it would be a hell of a fight to watch. It was enough to drag a corner of her mouth upwards. Spotting it, Anderson seemed to relax a little.

"Still, a former STG operative..." The old soldier glanced thoughtfully over to the corner of his office, where Mordin and Garrus were standing awkwardly, trying to look unobtrusive. "Impressive, Commander. It certainly impressed the Council."

"How could you tell?" She didn't even think they'd recognized Mordin. They certainly hadn't spoken to him.

"I've worked with them for the past two years. They may not be as easy to read as a human, but after a while, you pick up a few things. Your Doctor Solus impressed them. Bringing him along was a good idea, reminded them you're not just a Cerberus soldier."

Shepard straightened sharply, her gloved hands clenching around the balcony edge. "I'm not a Cerberus soldier at all."

Anderson regarded her closely for a moment, then nodded once. "I'll buy that. So did they, or they'd never have reinstated you as a Spectre."

"And the Alliance? What do they think?" Shepard carefully kept her gaze locked onto an elcor ponderously making his way across a walkway several stories below.

"As far as we're concerned, now that your KIA status has been corrected, you're back on the books, Commander. You're assigned to Admiral Hackett's Fifth Fleet sector command. Same as before. If you screw up out there, he'll be the one riding your ass about it."

Shepard cleared her throat. "Glad to hear it." There were other words, but they stuck in her throat. Ever since an Alliance frigate rescued her and the few other survivors from Mindoir, Shepard had been loyal to them above all else. The Alliance had become her family, to replace those lost so many years ago. Being officially drummed out of the service would have hurt something deep inside.

The look Anderson directed at her said he got it. They were both career military; lifers. It was probably why Anderson had been so sure she'd come when he called. The old soldier glanced over her shoulder, and she saw him frown slightly.

"I see you're still knocking around with that turian from C-Sec. Have you recruited any others from your old crew?"

Shepard followed his gaze to where Garrus and Mordin were ostentatiously inspecting a potted plant. Mordin appeared to be delivering a lecture – presumably on some obscure aspect of its biology – while Garrus had his 'I wish something would start shooting at us so we can _do something'_ face on.

"Garrus is my lucky charm. I don't leave home without him." The Commander looked back to Anderson, and let herself relax a little further. "We've got Tali back on board as well, she's overseeing some upgrades to the Normandy's shielding at the moment. We'll probably be here for another day or so."

There was a delicate pause. "And then?"

_Damn it, Anderson, you know better than to ask me that._

Shepard pushed away from the balcony she'd been leaning on, resolutely turning her back on the pristine view of the far-below Presidium. "Then we head back out. Probably towards Illium to pick up a few more people."

She could almost feel Anderson's curiosity pulsing off him. A sideways look in his direction showed that her old friend was staring blankly into the distance, a muscle jumping along his jaw line. It was an old tell of Anderson's; he always got that tic when he was thinking too hard.

"People who ally with Cerberus... tend to end up dead," he finally said.

_He's worried about my safety. _The realization that it was her current ally he mistrusted, rather than her, was a pleasant one. It was good to know he still had faith in her.

"The Council doesn't want to believe in the Reapers. The Alliance refuses to. You and I both know they're real, and they're coming. I'm not playing politics here, Anderson. I'm fighting a war, and I'm using every resource at my disposal to do so."

He still wouldn't look at her, staring fixedly out across the Presidium. Not for the first time, Shepard wondered what dealings he'd had with Cerberus in the past.

"I'll keep in touch when I can," Commander Shepard offered, waiting for him to turn to face her. When he did, she looked him right in the eye. He studied her with that piercing gaze she remembered all too well from time spent serving under his command. She could see that he wanted to argue; he wanted to pull her back into Alliance rank and command structure, and keep her away from Cerberus' influence.

But Anderson was too damn smart for that. He knew the importance of what she was doing. Unlike the Council, Anderson _believed_ in the Reapers. He knew the threat they posed to humanity, and the galaxy at large. Shepard waited patiently; waited for him to make the right call. After a few moments, he summoned up a grim smile for her.

"Give 'em hell, Commander," Anderson instructed her firmly.

Shepard hadn't saluted in years, but _damn_, she almost wanted to now. Instead, she gave him a quick grin that hopefully conveyed her gratitude and relief. She'd had few CO's better than Anderson, and none she'd have trusted to back her on this.

"Always do, sir," she assured him.

* * *

"Spectre status reinstated. Alliance rank reinstated. Congratulations, Shepard," Mordin commended her, pressing his thin, scarred head forward between the front seats of the skycar.

Shepard shot him a surprised look. It was the first thing any of them had said since leaving the Presidium. They hadn't stuck around once she'd concluded her business with Anderson. Outside of his office and in the diplomatic territory of the Presidium, three people in battered armor were an anomaly that alarmed the local citizens. Shepard had led them straight down to the nearest transit station and ushered the two men onto the first public vehicle she'd spotted, before someone called security on them.

"That went better than I expected," she admitted.

Garrus was frowning. "The Council has us doing their dirty work again."

"Council believes socio-political stability demands denial of the Reaper threat. Acknowledgement of Shepard's mission requires acknowledgement of Reaper threat," Mordin explained regretfully.

"The bitch of it is, they might even be right. We'll need a central command when the Reapers come, or we'll be slaughtered." Shepard found herself frowning as well. This wasn't a new thought, but it was one she had yet to find a solution for. "But we have to work around the Council, if they aren't even going to acknowledge the Reapers exist."

Garrus snorted in disgust. "We reverse engineered so much new technology from the remains of Sovereign. I can't believe they really think that was _geth_ technology."

"Me either," Shepard agreed grimly. "The Council are too smart for their own good. If it turns out that I'm right, they take the credit for having spotted the threat early on, and taken steps to investigate. If I'm wrong, they're on record as saying they don't believe me. Either way, they look good to their constituents."

"Assuming Reapers don't kill all their constituents," Mordin piped up cheerfully.

Shepard grimaced, staring out a window and watching the Presidium fall behind, as they crossed over into the 'arm' of the massive station which housed Zakera Ward.

Garrus cleared his throat. "Well, _that's_ depressing. Any word from Tali on how the CBT shielding installation is going?"

"Nothing yet," the Commander answered him, grateful for the topic change. "She gave me an ETA of 17 hours before we left for the Council meeting. We're at liberty till she's finished. Gardner's restocking supplies, and the crew seem happy to get some shore leave."

"Excellent!" Mordin exclaimed, again leaning eagerly between the two front seats to peer around at them. "Sufficient time to view entire elcor performance of Hamlet. Am told it is considered unparalleled demonstration of adaptation of classic human literature to formal elcor style. Has achieved significant renown! Can arrange tickets for all of us, know a volus who works in the theatre. Have been promised excellent seating!"

Shepard leaned back sharply from the enthusiastic salarian, waiting hopefully for the punch line. She should have known better. Salarians might have a sense of humour, but it was never that obvious.

_Oh hell. The elcor version of Hamlet lasts for fourteen hours,_ she remembered in faint alarm.

"Uhh... That would be great, but Garrus and I already have plans, don't we?"

Garrus looked over the disgruntled salarian at her in bemusement.

"Does not involve working, I hope? Weapon upgrades, training reviews? Insist you take shore leave, all crew should do so. In order to achieve maximum success in fight against Collectors, must maintain stress-free work environment, best assured by relaxed commander and..." Mordin eyed Garrus speculatively. "..._Crew_. Doctor's orders."

Garrus seemed to have caught on that justifying their refusal with the excuse of more calibrations wasn't going to cut it. Mordin was levelling a cool stare over them, reminding them both that he'd been recruited for more than his medical skills.

"The Dark Star," the turian blurted quickly. "We were going to the Dark Star, weren't we Commander?"

Shepard nodded immediately. "That's the plan. Get a few drinks, maybe catch up with some of the crew. Garrus here said he might even dance."

She wasn't above messing with him a little, but that's what he got for suggesting a bar as their most plausible excuse. Honestly, his bad habits from the old C-Sec days were clearly rearing their head. Garrus shot her a look that promised retribution.

"Let's not get too hasty, Commander. I believe that was only on the condition that you could handle an entire mug of ryncol and not pass out," he drawled back.

Mordin looked immediately alarmed. "Strongly advise against it, Commander! Elcor presentation of Hamlet far less likely to produce long term trauma!"

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Shepard muttered under her breath, before summoning a reassuring smile for the good doctor. "Don't worry, Mordin. I'm not going to do anything irresponsible. And I promise I'll be home by midnight."

Mordin opened his mouth to reply, when the vehicle banked sharply down towards the Zakera Ward. The salarian waited until they'd all climbed out before taking up his cause again.

"Quality of recreational activity more important than quantity. Expect you to obey your own commands, Shepard. _All_ crew at liberty. Will call EDI to check on you during intermission," Mordin advised firmly, his _doctor_ voice carrying trace tones of _scary-salarian-STG-operative_. Shepard resisted the urge to grimace.

"If we're still drinking in seven hours, you'll have to send Miranda to bail us out after somebody - and I'm not pointing any fingers -" Shepard cast a suggestive glance over Vakarian, "- starts another drunken bar brawl."

Garrus coughed. "That only happened the once."

Mordin gave them another firm stare. "Will check with EDI," he warned, before turning on his heel and sliding between two passing groups of pedestrians. Even with his distinctive damaged horn, she lost track of his bobbing head quite quickly.

Shepard turned to pin the turian with a challenging stare. "Dark Star Lounge? _Really?"_

Garrus looked embarrassed. "I panicked. What would you prefer, that I suggest we were visiting the Museum of Hanar Modern Art? At least he believed this."

_On second thought... good point._

"Well, unless we want him to start dosing us with experimental hallucinogens to make us relax, we might as well go get one drink. It's not like there's anything vital waiting for us on the Normandy anyway," Shepard reasoned.

"Actually, I did leave a few programs running in the main battery..."

Shepard could see the hesitation, the uncertainty drifting behind bright blue eyes. He'd still been too damn tense today, and Mordin's advice seemed suspiciously sensible. She gave him a firm shove in the direction of Dark Star. "Your damn calibrations can wait a few more hours, Vakarian."

When they arrived, Shepard realized the Dark Star must have been renovated since her last visit there, on a two-day layover several years back. The music hadn't gotten any better, but the decor was a little classier. Neon lights split the general gloom, and it was at least light enough for Shepard to be reassured it was as clean and hygienic as a Citadel club could be expected to be.

Miles ahead of the _Afterlife_ on Omega, that's for sure.

"I guess I owe you a drink anyway, Shepard," Garrus said, to her surprise.

"You do?"

"Mmm." He nodded to a corner table where a trio of salarians were leaving. "Go get us a table."

Unsure what to say to that, Shepard shut up and staked out the table; Garrus headed straight for the bar. It was either the weapons or the armor, but not many of the Ward's casual evening crowd – mostly blue-collar workers from the nearby factory district – wanted to challenge her for the table once she'd laid claim to it.

Sitting there, Shepard realized this was only the second time she had been anywhere with Garrus that wasn't part of a mission. The first time had also been on the Citadel, directly after Sovereign's attack when she and her crew were all flying high on adrenaline and relief over their victory. It had been some dive in the Kithoi Ward, and they'd all gotten drunk off their asses. The highlight of the night had been Tali and Wrex deciding to sing a karaoke duet. In retrospect, Garrus might have deliberately started that bar fight just to make them stop.

"It's not ryncol, and I'm not dancing," Garrus informed her bluntly as he placed a batarian liquor down in front of her.

Rolling her eyes up at him, Shepard took the drink but not the bait. She flashed him a quick grin as the lanky turian folded himself into the seat opposite her. "Thanks for having my back with the Council this morning, big guy."

"Just part of the service, Shepard. They've got their heads so far up their asses, they won't know the Reapers are here until they're thanking us for saving their lives. _Again._"

"You're optimistic today." Shepard smirked up into his quizzical expression. "You actually think they'd thank us?"

She was pleased when that startled a laugh out of him. Shepard watched over the rim of her glass as her friend relaxed a little further, leaning back into his chair.

"So why did you owe me a drink?"

Garrus went still for a moment, and looked away, apparently studying the gyrating figures on the dance floor. "Because you were right about Sidonis. He turned himself in this morning," he answered finally. "Of course, it's not like it will really make a difference. Omega is outside the Citadel's jurisdiction. C-Sec won't be able to prosecute him for what he did."

_That's not the point and you know it._

"He kept his word," she pointed out quietly. It was the first she'd heard of Sidonis' surrender, but she at least was glad to hear of it.

Garrus' mandibles were pressed close to his face; a sure sign that he was agitated. "For whatever good it will do."

"It shows you were right about him. There _was_ good left in him."

She saw his jaw work, mandibles shifting into a faint smile. "_My_ instincts said to shoot him, Shepard. _Yours_ were right on the money."

"You believed in him once. Besides, you had a clear shot towards the end, Vakarian. You didn't take it," she reminded him carefully.

"You made a good case," he replied blandly.

_Are all turians this damn stubborn?_ She could see the stiffness in his body language, and the sharp angles of his mandibles. He was still dealing with his choice to let Sidonis live, and he didn't want to talk about it. Shepard sighed and held up her hands in surrender. "Fine. Fine! I'm dropping it."

"Good to hear. You know we're both terrible at small talk," he drawled, smirking at her. "So instead of talking about Grunt's moodiness, or how much of the Normandy's supplies Kasumi will have pawned before we get back, or what _exactly_ Joker was doing the other day when I walked into the cockpit... there's something I've been meaning to ask you, Shepard. What is it about husks that freaks you out so much these days?"

The question took her by surprise and hit her where she lived. Shepard's hands tensed and curled into fists. Garrus caught it immediately; he was watching her with such sudden deliberation that she almost felt like something under Mordin's microscope.

"Well, don't you pay attention. I didn't think anybody had noticed."

Unless it was a hell of a lot more obvious than she'd thought. Had she slipped? Lost her edge in the field? Shepard was thinking back to Horizon, replaying the mission on her mental view screen.

"Nothing obvious, Shepard. Relax." Garrus leaned back, giving her space. "You react differently to them now. Almost like they... frighten you. Am I wrong?"

Those damn bird eyes were pinning her like a hawk, pinning her to the damn table. She'd have liked the luxury of getting angry at him for prying, but hell, hadn't she just planted herself between him and revenge less than a day ago? Garrus deserved something in return for her deliberate meddling in his life, and if this was what he was picking... well, it could have been worse.

_He could have asked about Kaidan._

Shepard took a deep breath and forced herself to answer. "You're not wrong. I didn't notice it myself till we were on Horizon, and halfway through the mission. I never used to have a problem with them... No more than anyone else, at least. Sure, they're creepy as hell, but... it was only after I died, after I talked to Miranda about how they brought me back... I've been wondering how much of them is in me now?"

In her peripheral vision, she saw him pull back in reaction. Without looking up, the commander laid her hands out on the table before them, and deliberately – one by one – pulled off her gloves. Leaving her hands bare, she pressed them palm down on the table so that the faint tracings of cybernetics underneath the backs of her hands were visible. Her hands were rock steady but her breath rattled in her throat as she exhaled.

"Cerberus built me back up, just like the geth do with the husks. Cybernetics and god knows what. We know Cerberus have access to husk samples... you were there at Chasca. How much of that technology did they use to bring me back?" she asked flatly, as Garrus stared at the faint lines of cybernetics tracing her hands. The scars were gone from her face, but not from her body. "Despite what Miranda says, I'm not entirely sure how much of me is human these days, big guy."

_This is getting depressing again. Weren't we supposed to be having fun? _

Commander Shepard smiled regretfully, and picked up the nearby glove to pull it back on. But to her surprise, Garrus moved suddenly, and one three-fingered hand stretched to cover both of hers. Startled, she looked up at him and what she saw there was not what she expected.

There was no horror, no revulsion. No careful tactical analysis of what would be necessary to take her down if whatever Cerberus had done one day consumed her. There was instead a fierceness she normally only saw in him during combat. With as much deliberation and care as she had shown, Garrus lifted his huge, armored hands and methodically removed his own gloves. When his three-fingered hands were as bare as her own, he placed them down on either side of hers, palms down.

Next to them, her hands looked as small and pale as a child's. Shepard stared at the image for a moment, then blinked and peered up at him curiously.

"I should have died on Omega, Shepard. If you hadn't come across that bridge, I would have," Garrus told her flatly in that quiet, flanging drawl. "So if you're asking if I care whether Cerberus used husk, geth, or hell, even _Reaper_ technology to bring you back... the answer is, I don't. I never will. I don't give a damn what went into bringing you back, because when I saw you in my scope, I knew it was really _you_. Nobody else could have pulled me out of that hellhole on Omega... nobody else could have gotten Miranda on side or done half the crap you've done since you came back... and I'm damn sure nobody else would stand in my line of fire and stop me from making what was probably going to be the biggest mistake of my life."

Aw, hell, she was almost blushing. Shepard opened her mouth to answer, but found she didn't have anything coherent to say, and closed it again sharply. It made him smirk.

"Shepard," he purred across the table at her. "You're the most aggravating, stubborn, frustrating, defiant and sometimes downright _insane_ person I've ever met in my life. Nothing in Cerberus' bag of tricks is good enough to recreate that. It's all you, Commander."

At that, she gave a sharp bark of laughter, and felt a deep-down tension uncurl within her. Shepard studied her friend in bemusement. "Thanks, Garrus."

He tilted his head at her, avian-style. "Who said it was a compliment?"

She laughed again, and this time it was real. Damn, she was glad she'd found him again on Omega. Shepard wasn't sure she'd have made it this far without him. On the heels of that thought, the Commander realized that while Mordin's instructions might have some validity to them, they were going about this all wrong. Because this wasn't what Commander Shepard and Garrus Vakarian did to relax. Dingy bars and overpriced booze? Not their style. Of course, neither was interpretive Shakespeare.

His hands still rested either side of hers, and Shepard nudged one lightly with her fingertip. "Think we've been here long enough to keep Mordin off our backs? We only promised one drink."

Garrus' smirk broadened. "Reconsidering your refusal on that elcor play?"

"You'd have to shoot me first," she assured him. "But I just realized I'd rather be in my own damn cabin, planning out our next mission. The alcohol isn't as good, but it's cheaper, you won't have to suffer through this noise pollution they call music, and at least my fish aren't going to get drunk and yell abuse at us or throw up in a corner. What do you say, big guy? Can I tempt you away from a night of drunken debauchery?"

"I thought you'd never ask," he drawled back in clear relief. "Can we go right now?"

Shepard grabbed her gloves and stood up, yanking them on. "Hell yes."

* * *

The cargo area around the Normandy's docking slip was a hive of activity when they reached it. Normandy crew and Citadel dock workers were rapidly sorting their way through several piles of crates and pallets, all marked with the names and insignia of vendors from the Citadel. Shepard paused for a moment to watch in surprise. At least some of this stuff would be the supplies she had authorized Gardner to take on board. Food, maintenance inventory, general consumables that a ship the size of the Normandy ate up at an alarming rate. But it looked like the crew of the Normandy had been doing a little shopping themselves. At least, Shepard didn't remember authorizing purchases from Erala's Erotic Emporium.

"What the hell?"

Shepard began taking a closer look at some of the waybills fastened to the containers piled around her, checking what was being brought on board and who for. After a moment, she paused and looked up at Garrus in bemusement.

"Action figures. Grunt is buying action figures?" she asked in disbelief.

Of them all, Grunt probably had the most legitimate need to purchase personal goods. He only owned his armor and his weapons and she wasn't going to begrudge him a few personal necessities but still...

Garrus chuckled at her confused expression. "Boys will be boys, Commander. Even krogan boys, apparently."

Shepard really hoped the box from Erala's Erotic Emporium wasn't also for Grunt.

"Commander!"

She looked up to see Gardner approaching, looking distinctly less surly than usual. He had a datapad tucked under his arm, and had clearly been overseeing the inventorying of new supplies before he spotted her.

"We're just about fully restocked now, Commander. I'm waiting on the dextro food supplies and then we're good to go whenever the modifications are complete. Should be here in the next half hour," he informed her with deep satisfaction.

Beside her, Garrus jerked in surprise. "Dextro food?"

Gardner smirked up at him. "You betcha, Vakarian. The Commander suggested I try my hand at a few turian and quarian delicacies. Tali sent me through a list of do's and don'ts for preparing dextro based food. Give me a few days to learn how to cook with this stuff without killing you, and you two can eat in the mess instead of living on that pre-packaged junk." Looking about him with the manner of a king surveying his kingdom, Gardner gave a contented sigh and hurried off to assist a crewman with the inventorying.

Shepard smiled upwards at the still-puzzled turian. "Figured you could use some decent food too."

Garrus studied her briefly. "Thank you."

"Just taking care of my crew, big guy. How about you grab something you can eat on the go and bring it up to my cabin?"

The turian glanced around the organised chaos carefully, and nodded. "Let me check on those programs I left running in the main battery, and I'll meet you up there in half an hour."

"Don't make me come find you," she threatened, and watched him weave carefully through the crates and passing crew and dock workers, smirking to herself. Garrus had never been very good at accepting kindness from others; he never seemed to expect it, and was always vaguely puzzled about how he should react to it. Was it a turian thing or something in his background that made him so innately paranoid?

Shepard glanced around, and paused when she caught sight of a crewman unloading supplies, who had stopped in his task to stare at her in apparent surprise.

"Problem?" she asked blandly.

The crewman blinked. "No ma'am." He turned his back immediately, bending back down to continue scanning inventory into his handheld reader. She could see the tips of his ears turning red, but dismissed it with a shrug and headed out of the cargo area herself.

It was only a few minutes later, as she entered the elevator and hit the button for deck one, that Shepard realized how her comment to Garrus could be taken.

_Aw hell... I meant a tactical meeting, not a... a dinner date! That's ridiculous, Vakarian and I aren't... we're...  
_

What? At this point, Shepard stopped short, wondering exactly how to finish that sentence. Soldiers? War buddies? He was the one damn person in this entire screwed up universe that she actually trusted, and...

_Friends,_ she concluded firmly. _We're... friends._

Friends seemed inadequate, but Shepard could honestly admit she'd never thought of him romantically before. He was turian, after all. Something about that struck her as alarming. She had never considered herself xenophobic, but was that why she had turned Liara down? At the time, she'd thought it was simply because asari looked too feminine and whatever else she was or wasn't, Shepard knew she was pretty damn hetero.

What about Garrus then? At least he was male. Shepard crossed her arms, frowning thoughtfully as she mentally stripped him of his weapons and tried to look at him as _just some_ _guy_, rather than a turian.

Well. To start with, Garrus was honest and strong and loyal; without a doubt one of the most brilliant tacticians she'd ever come across. When all of that sharp-edged intelligence and fierce dedication was narrowed down into a weapon offered up for her use, it did almost take her breath away. Of course, he didn't have lips and how would you kiss a turian anyway, with those mandibles in the way? But he was taller than her, and bigger, despite those bird bones of his. He would curl around her like some giant, sharp-edged cat, all long limbs and hot skin, and something in that idea was strangely appealing.

Shepard thought of how close his bare hands had been to hers not so long ago. Turian flesh might be firmer than a human's, but she knew his hands were still as soft as suede. She liked his awkwardness, and the adorable babbling he inevitably derailed into whenever he got nervous. She liked that just when she'd gotten used to him being awkward, he'd blindside her by throwing out some impossibly suave line in that low drawl he used...

She grinned a little.

_Mm, that voice._

Shepard's eyes snapped open in sudden shock, as she realized how _incredibly not difficult at all_ it was to picture Garrus Vakarian without his guns. Her eyes widened further when she realized the elevator had stopped at some point and she hadn't noticed, the door gaping wide open onto deck one.

"Oh hell."

"Commander," EDI responded politely. "Is something wrong?"

"No." Shepard coughed. "No, just lost in thought. Thanks EDI."

Pushing herself off the wall of the elevator with as much composure as she could manage, Shepard made her way swiftly to her cabin, her thoughts rebounding frantically on each other. What the hell had been in that drink Garrus bought her? As much as she tried to focus, she just kept coming back to the new mental picture she'd constructed of Garrus. It was as if everything she already knew about him had suddenly undergone a slight perception shift, and Shepard was having a hard time getting it back to normal.

_Well. Okay. That was a surprise, but at least I'm not secretly a xenophobe. Now how do I turn this off?_

Shepard dropped down into the chair in front of her terminal, leaning back into it and closing her eyes tightly. Her little bout of self-examination had opened up something entirely unexpected, and she wasn't really sure what to do about it. Maybe she just needed to get laid. It had been over two long years (did it matter that she'd been dead for most of it?) since she and Kaidan were together. Maybe this was just hormones, and a cold shower would settle her down.

Or maybe she had just admitted to herself that she found her right hand man incredibly fucking hot, in a strange and unexpected way.

And he was coming up for dinner – _just dinner, just two soldiers having dinner and planning strategy_ – in less than an hour. Except hell, there was probably no better first date in the universe for a woman like her. Shepard groaned and shook her head.

"Isn't it great that I have the fate of the galaxy to distract me from this awkward moment of self-enlightenment?" she remarked to her fish tank, pushing herself back onto her feet.

Garrus had just been through hell with Sidonis, and the last thing Shepard intended to do was confuse him even more by acting strangely around him. Whatever the hell was going on in her head was her issue, and she'd deal with it. Besides, it was probably just a random thought that didn't mean anything anyway.

She and Garrus were just friends. And if they weren't, well, she still had bigger things to worry about than what that might mean.

In the meantime, she'd take the cold shower.


	11. Chapter 10: Old Bones Upon the Mountain

**A/N- **Firstly, many many thanks to the lovely Stormflite, who volunteered to beta this for me. She was excellent help in unravelling a few issues I was having with this chapter, but I did adjust a few things after she handed it back, so any errors are probably my own fault :)

Secondly, having finished ME3, I am absolutely committed to finishing this story. I really want to write the sequel covering events from the third game, because I was just thrilled with how wonderfully Bioware handled the relationship with Garrus and Shepard. (I'm avoiding spoilers for anyone who hasn't finished it yet, but I promise, Bioware are very good to us!)

Finally, I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed, favorited or set alerts for this story. The reviews in particular make me smile and feed my muse, so thank you for all your kind words! Please feel free to share your thoughts on anything you'd like to see happen in future chapters. My overall game plan for this story isn't set in stone, and I'd like to give something back to my dedicated readers.

Now, on with the chapter. I hope everyone enjoys!

* * *

Illium's Nos Astra at mid-afternoon was a blaze of silver-white sunlight reflecting and refracting off the maze of shining skyscrapers. Garrus Vakarian paused on the main trading floor, and swept a glance up and over the wall of shining towers. He was on his own today, since Miranda had insisted that Jacob be the third for her sister's escort mission. Garrus didn't like it, and hadn't bothered to hide that fact from Shepard. Not that he would have wanted Miranda along while he was dealing with Sidonis. But Shepard had taken one look at him and suggested in that voice that wasn't _quite_ a command, that he find something constructive to distract himself with.

_Fine. Constructive? I can do constructive._ Garrus stepped off the trading floor and into the administrative alcove, taking the steps two at a time up towards Liara's office.

"Can I help you?" The asari behind the reception desk was new. Nyxeris had clearly been dealt with by the new-and-improved Dr. T'Soni.

"I'm an old friend of Liara's. Garrus Vakarian."

With a dubious look over his battered armor, the receptionist tapped quickly at her keypad. Her expression cleared almost instantly and she gestured him towards the door. "Dr T'Soni will see you now."

"Thanks," he drawled back at her, reflecting that he probably should get some new armor at some point. It still worked fine in combat, but he usually preferred something with a bit more style. The only problem was he was sending every credit he had straight through to Solana to help with their mother's medical treatments.

As he passed through the door, Liara was already moving around her desk to greet him. She wasn't nearly as easy to read as she had been two years, but his visor gave him an advantage. Garrus couldn't miss the moment when she realized he was alone. Her shoulders dropped, the heartbeat that his visor had caught rapidly increasing dropped back to a steady pulse, and her pupils retracted back to normal size.

"Sorry, Li. The Commander's running escort duty today. It's just me."

The asari came to stand in front of him, her smile growing as she looked over him. "You're always welcome here, Garrus. I'm sorry we didn't have the chance to talk more yesterday... I have missed you too."

He smirked. "Everybody misses me, I'm the life of the party."

Her smile evolved into a familiar laugh, provoking a sharp spike of regret deep within the turian. He couldn't deny he'd missed this little blue brat during his years on Omega. He should have kept in touch, dammit.

"I'd hug you, but I know how you feel about that... and you're still as spiky as ever," Liara commented with a sly grin. She led him over to a conversational lounge under the window, dropping into the low couch and gesturing for him to join her. "So what can I do for you today?"

"You've come a long way from the awkward little archaeologist I remember from two years ago," Garrus answered, taking a seat and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

The asari glanced downwards unsurely, and it was a relief that some of the gauche adolescent remained. Century-old asari were little more than teenagers, and Liara's innocence had always been part of her appeal. When she looked up, however, Garrus saw something older and harder staring back at him. It was a vivid reminder that he wasn't the only one who'd changed over the past two years.

"I've had to. Saren and my mother showed me the galaxy isn't as safe as I'd wanted to believe. Illium is a good reminder of that," Liara answered quietly.

_Prettier. Cleaner. But scratch the surface, and this place is just another Omega._

Garrus nodded. "So you've given up on archaeology and gone into the information market. Not what I expected from a scientist."

He watched her recognise that this wasn't just a social call. "Like I told Shepard, it's not so different from archaeology. Collating data, sifting through fragments of information to try to formulate a comprehensive picture." Liara shrugged lightly, her head tilted as she regarded him thoughtfully. "But it pays the bills. And there's always plenty of work going for soldiers for hire on Illium. Short term contracts. Even ones that fit _your_ moral code, Garrus."

The turian let himself relax. "Point some of that my way then. I pay my debts."

Liara's expression dissolved into momentary confusion. "Your...? Garrus, you don't owe _me_ anything."

"You got her back, Li," Garrus reminded her, glancing away. Hmm, the view out her window was even better than from the trading floor below.

There was silence for a long moment. Although she was a hugger by nature, Liara had always kept her distance from him. So Garrus was taken by surprise when he felt her small, warm hand press down lightly on his forearm, dragging his attention back to her luminous gaze. Garrus blinked, and looked away again quickly, clearing his throat.

"There's one job I've been having difficulty getting anyone to take," Liara began softly. "Here, take a look."

Garrus took the data pad she offered and glanced over it. Liara had been approached by a visiting asari whose human lover had signed an unwise contract. When the fine print was invoked, the human – Thomas Stiers – had become indentured to Genax Industries for a five year term, and his asari wife was determined to get him free and away from Illium.

"You can see why I'm having trouble attracting any local contractors for this one."

Yeah, he could. Indentured contracts formed the backbone of Illium, and the meta-corporation which administered them could easily ruin anyone who interfered with them.

Garrus scanned further down the data pad. Stiers was employed and housed in the Analytics department in Genax Tower, making it a simple extraction job. But Liara had noted that Genax – like many other proprietary corporations on Illium – employed Abraxis Solutions to assure their security. Abraxis were a private security organisation, known for being well trained and damn well armed.

So at least it would be a challenge. Glancing up towards Liara, he flicked his mandibles upwards into a turian smirk. "Anything I can do to help out a friend," he drawled in satisfaction.

"I'll transfer the payment through to your account once you radio confirmation you have the target," Liara promised him with a warm smile.

He shook his head at that. "I don't want any payment."

Liara made an exasperated noise. "Stop being so stubborn, you big... turian!" she snapped back at him. "I told you, I've been looking for someone to take this job for weeks, and nobody is willing. The client is going to pay me regardless of who does the job, and you need the credits."

Garrus' head snapped around sharply to glare at her. She had the grace to look abashed, but it didn't make him any less annoyed. "Dammit, Liara, is there anything you _don't_ know?" he growled.

"I'm sorry... I only found out about your mother by accident, when I was looking into where you'd been for two years. I had no idea you were Archangel, not until you showed up out of nowhere with Shepard." Liara's voice dropped, and she looked down at her hands. "I thought you'd died too, you know."

Great. Now he felt like the galaxy's biggest jerk.

With a light pat on his forearm, the asari stood up smoothly. "We'll split the payment in half. Deal?"

The brat still knew how to play him. "Deal," he accepted on a sigh, standing up.

"Good. Now clear out of my office."

She was smiling at him when she said it, and _damn_, but it was good to see her looking so much like her old self. She'd worried him yesterday, but without Shepard's presence to distract her, she had relaxed into the old Liara. Garrus flashed her a grin, mandibles splaying confidently as he made his exit.

* * *

Garrus approached Genax Tower from the air, gliding an air taxi in towards the roof to settle gently. He'd hacked through the security protocols to give him manual control, and keep the vehicle from leaving for twelve minutes. He'd calculated that even with a reasonable safety margin, that was all the time he'd need to get in, locate Stiers, and get him out.

He fiddled with the controls for his visor, initiating two combat programs. Immediately twin displays appeared on his HUD, brilliant orange against the normally blue readouts.

_Time 12:00  
Kills 0_

Access to the building came in the form of an alarmed door, but Alliance military-grade electronic intrusion measures, bolstered by turian, quarian, krogan, asari and salarian technology, were sufficient to let him hack his way through it. He smirked to himself. There was a reason Shepard's team could break through nearly any door standing in their way.

"_Stiers should be located on the 37__th__ floor_," Liara's voice sounded quietly in his radio, the signal coming through on the combat channel they'd used in the old days.

Already striding down the corridor, Garrus paused momentarily in surprise. "Don't you trust me to do this alone, T'Soni?" the turian teased, even as he took a quick sweep of the immediate area. He was in a public corridor but it was empty, and he could see a bank of elevators not much further down the hall.

"_We didn't get much chance to talk. I want to know what's been going on with you, and with Shepard. Who else have you got on the Normandy_?"

"Liara, you do realize I'm in the middle of something right now, don't you?"

The elevator was small and mirrored, reflecting back a dizzying imprint of his own image. Tuneless music struggled through hidden speakers as the doors closed around him, drawing a grimace upon his reflections.

"_Don't be ridiculous, Garrus. You're only going up against private security, I'm almost sure Shepard won't have to come rescue you. Again_."

Garrus held back the groan as the elevator began its descent. "You heard about that, huh?"

The screen over the top of the lift doors had only counted down to floor 53, and he was filling Liara in on the Normandy's current crew, when he felt movement stop and the doors slid open. A pair of asari office workers entered the lift, heads bent and focussing on a datapad held between them. The doors closed and it was only when one of them looked up to hit the controls for their level, that they spotted him.

For a moment, the piped-in music burbled louder than ever, and the silence stretched out painfully.

Garrus cleared his throat. "Don't mind me, ladies. I'm here for... ah, pest control."

The two asari stared at him with widening eyes that tracked briefly over his battle-scored armor and face, paused at the weapons. Without a word, one of them reached out blindly to hit the lift controls frantically. The elevator doors opened again and the two women almost fell over themselves trying to get out.

"_Pest control?"_ Liara choked out around ripples of laughter.

"Well, there goes the element of surprise," Vakarian reflected mournfully.

* * *

Five minutes later, and he was racing through a lab that looked like a bomb had exploded in the centre of it, dodging a hail of bullets and several bright blue flashes of biotic energy. Garrus twisted to look over his shoulder as he ran, raising his pistol long enough to send a quick response that sent his pursuers scrambling for cover. His visor counter flickered.

_Time 06:28  
Kills 9_

"_Garrus, I am so sorry! I had no idea Genax had an asari commando team stationed on site-"_

He grunted as he dove for cover behind an overturned lab desk, slamming out the heat sink and sliding another smoothly in. The spent thermal clip fell to the ground, hissing in faint counterpoint to the bursts of biotic attack exploding around him.

_Some information dealer_, he thought wryly. "Makes you wonder what the hell they're actually doing in these labs, hmm?" he drawled, checking the heat readings on his visor's IR. He had three combatants still in play, one of which had been tagged by his live-fire software as the last of the asari commandos, and the other two as part of the Abraxis security team.

"_You're not injured, are you? Shepard will kill me if I let you get hurt."_

His shields were being sorely tested, but so far they'd held and he'd only felt one hot spot on his back where a shot had gotten through. Garrus rolled his shoulder experimentally and it felt okay, so he figured the armor had done its job. "I'm fine. Give me a moment."

The feedback from his visor's target tracing system measured the biotic fields of the asari, and flashed up an optimised firing solution. Reacting to it was instinct now after so many years, and had undoubtedly saved his life countless times. It had certainly done its job today, because the sudden appearance of a team of hardened asari commandos had _definitely_ been a surprise.

Garrus gripped his rifle tightly and moved, following the firing solution laid out across his visor and squeezing the trigger confidently. The first Abraxis guard went down instantly, but a quickly conjured biotic barrier from the commando kept his other targets safe.

_Time 06:13  
Kills 10_

Pulling his head back behind cover, Garrus considered his options. He was trapped in a lab, still didn't have his target, and had an asari commando closing in on him. She was probably fairly pissed at him, since he'd just killed two of her sisters. In the split-second glance he'd got at the rest of the room, Garrus recalled a damaged section of the roof. No doubt their biotic games had ruptured the structural stability of this level a fair bit, and if he could lure them into position underneath the weakest point...

"_Garrus, I'm contacting the Normandy – Joker can send Tali down to give you support, I'll be there in a few minutes –"_

Crawling around the edge of the lab table, and spying another convenient bit of cover in the rubble, Garrus sprinted for it. He ignored Liara's anxious babbling over the radio as he dodged warp pulses and violent biotic slams, along with a few stuttering bursts of gunfire.

_Crap, I think that one hit,_ he realized with a grimace, sliding into cover again. His shields were down for a moment, the alert on his visor flashing an alarming red.

"Liara, this will be over in another minute. If I'm still alive, we'll talk then."

He barely heard his friends choked-off gasp, too busy focussing on the biofeedback intel his visor was offering up. The two targets were moving into the position he wanted them, and Garrus hastily checked his shield status. Not back up to full strength, and he knew he'd have to expose himself to fire, but this was the best option available. Gritting his teeth, the turian raised himself to his knees and aimed his rifle high, over the asari's heads.

Even as he let loose a violent burst of gunfire at the most fragile section of the roof, they retaliated. Garrus heard gunfire from the Abraxis guard and the screaming alarm as his shields flatlined under it. Without any protection, and committed to firing at the roof which was even now shrieking in protest, he had no choice but to watch on in horror as the asari commando lifted a hand and flared out a biotic pulse.

His ears felt like they were bursting, and he couldn't tell if it was the scream of gunfire, or the screams of the roof giving way – _come on, damn it, give way! _ – but his vision was already spinning and graying out even before he felt the ground drop away from him.

For a moment, there was nausea and alarm, the sense of being suspended in mid air by the biotic grip and he had a second to think – _this is gonna hurt_ –

* * *

There was a flashing light, blurry and out of focus, when he forced his eyes open. Garrus groaned with the immediacy of pain making itself known through every inch of his body, and struggled to open his eyes properly.

_Time 03:12  
Kills 12_

It gave him pause, because the biofeedback program was showing him an empty room other than himself. Garrus exhaled slowly in relief; slowly, because the second he breathed in, he felt pain flash like fire down his ribs.

"_Garrus? Garrus? Answer me! Oh Goddess, answer me? Please!"_

He groaned as he moved to sit up carefully. "I was right. That hurt." His first priority was triggering the medi-gel release through the armor. He exhaled softly in relief when the first blissful flood of pain-relief hit his nervous system.

"_Oh thank the Goddess,"_ Liara breathed over the radio. "_What happened? You stopped responding!"_

The turian struggled to stand up, his body still not entirely under his command. The room had looked like a bomb hit it before. Now, it looked like the middle of a war zone. The entire roof of this level had crashed down under his gunfire, crushing the two asari who'd been underneath it. Structural support beams were visible, which explained why his kill count had gone up. A roof falling on them wasn't enough to stop an asari commando, normally. He'd gotten lucky.

Moving slowly, Garrus stumbled free of the rubble where he'd landed after being knocked unconscious, and studied the fallen roof thoughtfully. It provided an almost perfect ramp up to the next level.

"Stiers is based one level up, right?" he asked Liara.

"_Forget Stiers and get out of there, now. I would never have sent you in alone if I'd known they had commandos."_

Garrus smirked painfully. "Haven't failed a mission yet, Li," he reminded her. _Not even Omega,_ the turian reflected with quiet pride. Shepard and her team had helped, but in the end, he'd left Omega without a single damn Blood Pack, Blue Sun or Eclipse merc standing.

The fallen roof was unstable and unsteady, but his body was finally starting to react to the medi gel. His muscles were loosening up again, letting him clamber more easily up the fallen rubble. By stretching to his limit, Garrus was able to get a grip on the broken edge of the intact ceiling and heave himself up. Liara must have been listening to his grunts and gasps as he pulled his protesting body up and rolled onto the floor of the level above, but she kept silent.

He appreciated that right now.

"I'm getting Stiers and getting out. Shouldn't be too hard. How many commandos can one company have?"

"_...I'm telling Shepard you said that."_

Grinning tightly in response, Garrus made his way carefully and quietly down the corridor. Aside from the room with the collapsed floor, he could see no further damage to this level. The building was in lockdown mode, though, so Stiers should still be here. He paused at the end of the corridor, spying a sign pointing him in the direction of the Analytics department. Garrus limped in that direction.

He had to hack his way through the door, before it opened smoothly onto a lab full of startled techs. Garrus entered, rifle at the ready, even as his visor fed back IR data on the head signatures inside. It was a race between the software and his own instincts to see which one reassured Garrus first that nobody in this room had a weapon.

"Thomas Stiers?" he asked expectantly, glancing between the two human males in the room. The rest were asari, or human women.

"I'm Stiers," one of them answered hesitantly, giving him the kind of look that suggested he was wondering if he'd just signed his death sentence by admitting that.

Garrus gave him a full turian grin. The one with lots of sharp, pointy teeth. "Your wife says you never call anymore. Let's go."

Stiers was a tall, lean human. He had Alenko's height, but Joker's muscle tone, and he moved closer to Garrus with an edgy, nervous manner that definitely reminded him of the Normandy's pilot at his most awkward. "Saria sent you? Is she okay?"

_Time 01:47  
Kills 12_

The flashing countdown in his visor was getting low enough that Garrus wasn't inclined to be chatty. "Keep your head down, there could be a few more commandos," he said in reply, checking the corridor before heading out. The other techs hadn't said a word, but they kept their distance and watched on uncertainly. Garrus left the door open behind him; if they wanted to take their chances, they were free to do so.

Garrus wasn't willing to risk the elevators now that Abraxis knew he was in the building, so he dragged Stiers up the stairwell. The human was straight-up civilian without an ounce of military training or combat experience, but adrenaline must have been riding him pretty hard, because Stiers kept up with the turian's long-legged pace as they climbed the stairs to the roof.

"_Garrus, I'm taking Saria to the rendezvous point. Just get out of there, now,"_ Liara urged him over the radio.

They broke through the roof access door at a run, Garrus aiming his rifle around sharply, his visor scanning for an ambush. He knew there was at least half a team of Abraxis security personnel running around the building, and he wasn't taking any chances. By the time he'd confirmed there wasn't anyone up there with them, Stiers had already scrambled into the waiting cab and Garrus hastened in behind him.

Not a moment too soon. The door was barely closing, the engine firing up under his hands, when three Abraxis guards burst onto the roof, firing almost before they could possibly have targeted them.

"Damn it," Garrus muttered, yanking back hard on the controls and dragging the cab up from the roof with a lurch. He heard the impact of bullets hitting the underside of the cab, and hoped nothing important had been hit. But the onboard navigation system accepted his destination from the coordinates Liara had given, and the vehicle inclined smoothly enough into a higher lane of traffic.

With a relieved sigh, Vakarian leaned back against his seat.

Almost immediately he became aware of two things. Firstly, his shoulder was stinging like a son of a bitch – he must have been hit there. Secondly, Stiers was staring at him intently but not with any expression Garrus was familiar with. He still had trouble with humans he didn't know very well.

"My wife... Is she all right?"

Garrus rolled his injured shoulder, lifting a hand up to unclasp the shoulder guard. "Make you a deal. I'll fill you in, if you tell me why the hell they had three asari commandos back there?"

Stiers blinked, taken aback. "They.. I've only been there a month, since I defaulted on that damned contract. I'm a systems analyst, so they had me running numbers on their projects... One of their high-security projects involved experiments with enhancing biotics. They'd just started testing on live asari last week."

"Last week. Of course. Damn." Garrus shook his head at his unlucky timing, and pressed his fingers under the loosened shoulder guard. He could feel the sticky-smooth texture that meant blood and when he pulled his hand free, his glove was stained blue. Irritably, he wiped the glove on the edge of his greaves, and refastened the shoulder guard. Stiers was still watching him expectantly.

Garrus cleared his throat. "Your wife's fine. We're on our way to meet her now, then a friend of mine is going to take the two of you to a ship that will get you off Illium. Indenture Tech can't enforce contracts outside of asari space, so I _strongly_ suggest you stay away from Council space for the next twenty years or so."

"You're a... are you a mercenary?"

Garrus felt his mandible twitch. "I prefer vigilante. It sounds classier."

As the car dropped down into an empty cargo area not too far from the main spaceport, Garrus could see two asari standing. Early twilight was starting to distort shapes, stretching shadows out in eerie patterns, but it was still light enough for him to make out Liara standing alongside a shorter, more lavender-hued asari.

Stiers made a happy sound as he spotted his wife, leaning forward in his seat while the vehicle manoeuvred to a halt. Garrus expected him to be up and out the door the instant they hit dirt, but to his surprise, the human paused with his hand on the door controls. He regarded Garrus seriously for a moment.

"What's your name?"

Garrus blinked at him in surprise.

Stiers met his gaze levelly. "I probably won't ever be able to thank you for getting me out of there. Hell, I doubt I'll ever see you again. But you got shot getting me out. I want to know who I should be grateful to."

It startled him, caught him off-guard. It had been a while since he'd done anything to be thanked for, and it brought up memories of Omega. The _good_ memories, from those days when a job had gone right and lives had been saved. Damn, it felt good to see someone looking at him like that again. He'd screwed it all up on Omega, but...

_No. That one's on Sidonis. _

The thought was like an epiphany, blind-siding him. Garrus realized he'd been staring blankly for a second longer than was probably normal, and forced himself to respond.

"Archangel," he said finally. "Where I came from, they called me Archangel."

* * *

"You're getting blue crap all over the deck again. What'd you do, get into a bar fight because the boss lady left you behind?"

It was just the kind of day he was having, Garrus decided. He'd hoped to get from the elevator to Med Bay without attracting any attention, so of course it stood to reason that Jack would be on one of her irregular scrounges for food. She had a habit of coming up for air when Gardner was off duty, so she wouldn't have to deal with him.

The turian sighed and turned to face her. Jack had perched on the edge of the galley bench, and was grinning broadly at him. Even as tired and sore as he was, it roused his urge to tease.

"Nah. Broke into a high security biochemical lab to rescue an indentured tech. Just killing time really."

Jack looked momentarily startled, then her face contorted into a scowl. "Dammit, Blue, next time you take shore leave I'm coming with you. You have all the fun."

Garrus laughed tiredly. "Is the Commander back yet?"

At that, Jack's grin reappeared. "Oh yeah. You missed out on that one. I hear they took out half the Eclipse mercs in Nos Astra this afternoon."

"What?" His stomach dropped uneasily as Garrus pinned the biotic with a fierce gaze. _One mission, Lawson. You had to watch her back for one damn mission._ "What the hell happened? It was supposed to be an escort job. Is Shepard hurt?"

"I think I'm doing better than you, big guy."

Her voice came from over his shoulder, and Garrus turned quickly to spot her standing in the door to Med Bay. His gaze raked over her in relief. She was back in her ship-board uniform and out of armor, but aside from a new derma-graft on her forearm, she didn't seem injured. As she approached him, he couldn't spot any hesitation or awkwardness in her stride that would indicate hidden wounds.

"Shepard, what went wrong?"

Shepard was looking him over just as carefully. "Nothing major. Miranda's father had gotten to her contact and they were waiting for us. We got her sister where she needs to be. Want to tell me what you've been up to?"

That wasn't any kind of explanation at all, and Garrus narrowed his eyes at her.

"Nothing major," he replied eventually, keeping his voice level enough that she couldn't miss the rebuke.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Jack move suddenly; she pushed off from the bench she'd been leaning on, grabbed her food and made for the elevator.

"The parents are fighting, I'm out."

She high-tailed it out of the mess hall and didn't look back. It wasn't entirely unexpected. Garrus had noticed that while she thrived on violence, she had an almost aggressive aversion to dealing with emotional issues. She'd pick superficial fights at the drop of a hat, and never backed down, but Jack hated it when things got personal.

Shepard was frowning. "Are we going to fight, Vakarian?"

"If we are, can we wait until Doctor Chakwas fixes up my shoulder?"

Her sigh was very audible. "Let's go."

Chakwas was as efficient as ever as she stripped the armor from his torso in order to properly sterilise the wound, and graft his damaged flesh back together again. The concentrated medi gel she slapped on him soothed the pain instantly, and Garrus had enough experience dealing with the good doctor that it normally didn't bother him to submit to her ministrations. But having Shepard standing there, arms crossed and a look of growing displeasure on her face, made him feel a little uncomfortable.

Even Dr Chakwas felt the tension, limiting her usually pleasant commentary to necessary remarks only. Once she'd finished, she assured Shepard he'd be fine, and excused herself from the medical bay hastily.

Sitting on a bed, surrounded by neatly stacked pieces of scorched armor, Garrus watched her go. "Well, we've chased two of the crew away already. If we keep this up, there won't be anyone left to run the ship."

"You just can't help getting into trouble the second my back is turned, can you?" his Commander asked, and even accounting for the alien lack of flange to her tone, it was clear she wasn't happy. She pushed off the opposite bed she'd been leaning on while Chakwas had worked on him and moved in closer.

"Right back at you, Shepard," Garrus snapped.

"I didn't leave a blood trail from the airlock."

Garrus lifted his chin and met her gaze head-on. "It was a favor for Liara. Turned out to be a little more complicated than I expected. A bit like your simple escort mission."

He'd half-turned away to grab his chest armor when Shepard shoved his hand aside pre-emptively. Ignoring his protest, she hefted the chest piece and stepped in closer to him. Garrus met his Commander's gaze, blinking in surprise when she looked pointedly at his arms. With growing confusion, he realized she wanted him to move so she could... put his armor on? What?

_What is going on with you, Shepard?_

Studying her carefully, Vakarian shifted so his Commander could get in close enough to attach the chest piece. He couldn't read her mood at all and that was starting to concern him.

"The difference is that I had back up," Shepard said quietly. Her hands were efficient but strangely gentle as they buckled and snapped the chest plate of his armor into place around his torso. It was at odds with the cool, distant tone of her voice. "Miranda and Jacob were with me, and that's why I walked out of it with a graze and you got shot full of holes." Shepard paused. "_Again."_

"At least it wasn't a missile to the face this time," Garrus managed to say, his brain slowly going blank as she picked up the back piece of his armor and moved around behind him.

"Shut up." Her voice was fierce, and Garrus could feel the tension in her body as she leaned over his shoulder to yank at a protesting buckle.

"That one's always a bit stiff, you just have to –"

"I said, _shut up Vakarian._"

Her voice was brittle, but it wasn't anger. He knew her anger, had seen it flare up too many times when a mission went south. Garrus felt her wrench firmly at the fastening and it settled into place comfortably, the back plate shifting into a familiar position again. When she reappeared in front of him, she was every inch the Commander. Distant, professional, radiating her authority – but the look in her eyes as she glanced over the broken edge of his armor was the key.

It was the same way he used to look at her scars. Angry. Guilty. Hating them for the reminder of how badly he'd failed her. It was a fact that Shepard wouldn't have died if he'd been on the Normandy that day. Unlike Alenko, Garrus Vakarian would not have let her stay behind. Wouldn't have even been an option.

She wasn't angry, he realized slowly. Shepard was _scared_. For some reason, his injury had frightened her and as always with Shepard, fear made her more aggressive. He'd been hurt worse than this on missions with her, so it had to be his lack of back up.

"You know, Shepard..." Garrus leaned in towards her, consciously pitching his voice at the most soothing tone he could manage. "I'm a big turian. I took care of myself just fine before I met you. I even managed pretty well most of the time you were gone."

"You nearly died on Omega, if I recall," Shepard pointed out.

Garrus watched her levelly. The soft flange of his drawl filled up the small space between them. "It was a straight in and out mission. Shouldn't have been a big deal, but you know how that goes. Something slipped past Liara and it went sideways."

Her eyes narrowed in displeasure. "Some information broker."

The echo of his own thought from earlier made him chuckle. "Not her fault, I don't think. Besides, it felt... good to help people again. All we seem to do these days is take out mercs, and hunt down intel. I know we're on a mission to save the colonies and probably the galaxy, but..."

"Archangel still likes to fight the good fight, huh?"

He met her resigned expression and nodded carefully. "Something like that."

Shepard grimaced. "Do me a favor? Take some back up next time?"

Garrus wished he could ask for the same in return. But she was the Commander, and he had no claim on her save that of one soldier to another, and maybe their friendship. It wasn't enough. He leaned back, nodding slowly. "You have my word, Shepard."

It was an easy promise to give. Today had been... unique; the need to repay Liara for her role in getting Shepard's body to Cerberus. The situation was unlikely to arise again.

Shepard sighed, and flicked a quick glance over the remaining pieces of his armor, still sitting in a neat pile beside him. "I still don't like you wearing this crap. It's been through hell, Garrus."

"So have I. Seems appropriate."

That provoked a laugh from her, and it sounded genuine enough that Garrus felt himself begin to relax.

"Did you at least get the job done?" Shepard asked, grabbing up the nearest shoulder guard from the pile of armor. She moved in closer again, tugging it into place over his uninjured shoulder.

"Of course," Garrus answered indignantly, submitting to her odd compulsion to dress him. "You said do something constructive. Does reuniting a pair of cross-species lovers count?"

He heard her snort as she grabbed the last shoulder guard. This one was for the injured side, so she was a bit more careful about pulling it on. She was close enough that he could see every individual strand of her strange human hair. Close enough that he could see the pulse point beating in her throat, underneath that soft, pale human flesh. Her eyes were intent on her task, but he watched a tiny smile tug at the corner of her mouth.

"Never pegged you for a romantic, Garrus." She hesitated over the final fastening. "Um. What cross-species?"

Garrus gave a low, flanging laugh. "Krogan and salarian. It was a match made in heaven."

With a final tug to check the fit of the shoulder guard, Shepard stepped back, eying him sceptically. "You've been reading Fornax again, haven't you?"

"Well, I don't see any eligible turian women around here. A guy's got to have a little fun," he teased her back. Normally, she'd roll her eyes or throw out a disparaging one liner, but he was surprised when his visor caught a sudden jump in her heart rate. There was a moment of silence, before Garrus cleared his throat, and quickly changed the topic. "Liara said if we come back this way, she'll take us to dinner. Tali, too."

Shepard shot him a quick, tight grin. "That'd be nice. Did you try to recruit her too?"

"Nah, I figured we already had our token asari on board, now that Samara's joined the team."

"Hmm, Samara. Think we'll have problems with her? That Justicar code seems a little... intense."

"Not since she swore herself to you. I don't know a lot about Justicars, but I know they don't make oaths like that lightly." Garrus shook his head, not even bothering to be amazed anymore that Shepard had commanded the loyalty and allegiance of a thousand year old asari Justicar. This was Shepard. It was what she did. "It's the assassin I'm more worried about."

"Thane?" Shepard looked surprised. "Why? Isn't he your new mancrush?"

Garrus stared at her. "My _what?"_

The familiar smirk appeared on her face. "Come on, Vakarian. You haven't used the word 'impressive' so much since we unpacked the new Incisor sniper rifles. You were all '_oooh, perfect headshot!'_ and _'ahhh, what an entrance!'_"

He gave a protesting rumble, but couldn't really deny it. The assassin had been... well, impressive. "Yeah, okay. What can I say? He's good at the solo kill. Maybe even better than me."

"That hurt to say, didn't it?"

The turian scowled. "A little. I'm better in group combat. It's the difference between a vigilante who knows how to play well with others, and an assassin who works alone."

Shepard grinned and slapped him companionably on the arm. "Don't worry, Vakarian. I still like you better." She curled her fingers around his arm guard and tugged; he let her pull him to his feet. "Take it easy on that shoulder. We'll have a few days travel before we hit Lorek to extract this missing Cerberus operative. If you want, you can sit this one out and I can give our new crew a test run."

_You went out without me once and you died._

The intensity of his reaction caught Garrus by surprise. He gave an uncertain cough. "Nah, I'll be fine. You heard Chakwas."

"Good to hear it, big guy. Now come on. Let's go get something to eat and you can fill me in on what you got up to today. I'm sure it's very impressive. Were there explosions?"

"Oh, maybe one or two," he drawled, following along easily as Shepard made for the doors.

"You blow up any Heavy Mechs?"

"Not this time. Just a few asari commandos."

"... Damn it, Vakarian. You're never leaving this ship without me again."

"Don't worry, Shepard. I'm sure your mission was just as impressive."


	12. Chapter 11: Sweetness Amid Strength

**A/N** - I know it's been a long wait for this chapter, so thanks to everyone who's stuck with it. And once again, thanks to Stormflite for being my beta!

To those who are eagerly awaiting the transition from friendship, I promise the Reach & Flexibility conversation is only a few chapters away. Reviews feed my muse and make me write faster! :)

* * *

The burning red glare of an angry star outlined the tense lines of the Illusive Man's jaw, casting him briefly in shadow, then illuminating him in bright scarlet as he shook his head.

"I'm not providing you with resources and intel for the hell of it, Shepard. I expect something in return."

Shepard leaned back on one leg, and crossed her arms defiantly as she studied the holographic image of Cerberus' illustrious leader. She'd known refusing to upload the intel recovered on Lorek would cause some issues, but it was her call and she was sticking to it. "Our deal covered the Collector attacks on human colonies. Not these little jobs your people keep sending through on the side."

"You're being paid quite well for those minor tasks, as I recall," the Illusive Man reminded her, inhaling deeply enough of his cigarette that the end flickered as brightly as the star behind him.

"And I get you results. You asked me to find your missing operative and rescue him if I could. We were too late. Not much I can do about that. Consider yourself lucky that I'm not uploading that data to the Alliance." Shepard presented him with her most charming smile. "I'm sure they'd have been more than happy to get it handed to them."

It was too damn close to a threat, and Shepard could almost feel herself holding her breath as she walked a very narrow, very dangerous line. If she pushed too hard here, she could compromise her only damn resource on this mission. To her relief, the Illusive Man simply exhaled a mouthful of smoke and inclined his head in acknowledgement of her point. Letting her breath out, she decided she might as well continue on the offensive, since it was going so well for her today.

"EDI's shown me the analysis of previous Collector attacks on human colonies, and there's a clear timeline. We're getting pretty damn close to expecting another one. A few weeks, a month at the most." Shepard let the frustration that had been riding her lately trickle through into her demeanour, as she leaned in closer to the communications console. "How close are we to having _any_ idea where to go next?"

The Illusive Man pressed the glowing tip of his cigarette into an ashtray by his arm rest and regarded her thoughtfully. He was always calm. Too damn calm. Most of the time, he drove her crazy with his ruthlessness and his arrogance, but no matter what she said or did, he only ever showed her that composed mask.

"I promise you, Shepard, I have my best people working on it. We have several leads, but nothing I'm prepared to commit the Normandy to without further corroboration. In the meantime, I'm forwarding you through a dossier for another potential recruit." The Illusive Man graced her with another of his pleasant, meaningless smiles. "You've built a strong team, but make sure they're all focussed on the mission. I'll be in touch once we receive confirmation of our investigations."

Complacent smile still firmly in place, the Illusive Man touched a control by his arm rest, and the holographic connection closed. Shepard opened her mouth to reply – pointlessly; the link was already broken – and closed it with a sharp snap as the image of the Illusive Man collapsed back into the holo-grid.

"I've never heard anyone speak to him the way you do."

Shepard glanced sideways at Miranda, who had been standing outside the grid for the conversation. "Pissed off and annoyed? I figured he must get that from everyone he speaks to."

The Cerberus operative gave her an amused smile, and a shake of her dark head. "Not at all. Most of the Illusive Man's personal negotiations are handled smoothly and profitably for everyone involved. That's how he maintains his operations. It's very rare for someone to challenge him the way you do."

_Bet he's regretting investing all that money into me now._

Shepard leaned forward to rest her weight on the solid wooden frame of the desk. "I can't see you falling in line if you disagree, Miranda. Not even for him."

"The Illusive Man has helped me a lot over the years, but he's still my boss, Shepard. I know how far I can push and I respect that."

The Commander studied her thoughtfully. "I appreciate you backing me on this one."

"To be honest, not even I could crack EDI's encryptions to get the intel for the Illusive Man. But thank you for the compliment," she added, the corner of her mouth creeping up.

Seeing past the cold calculation that Miranda masked herself with was a new and interesting phenomenon. Beyond that fiercely analytical mind was an almost shy sense of humor, an astonishingly fragile personality, and an individual that Shepard was becoming quite pleased to know. She hoped like hell that trusting this woman wouldn't bite her in the ass. Miranda as a willing ally would be an invaluable resource, but she'd been loyal to Cerberus for so long that it remained a risky venture.

Her instincts said go for it, though, and Shepard had always trusted her instincts. "No regrets?"

Miranda's smile faded visibly. "After Niket... I've always considered myself an excellent judge of character. Turns out, I'm not. I thought I could trust Niket, and I was wrong. It's not a mistake I want to repeat. I've been questioning a lot of things since Illium, Shepard." Dark, determined eyes met Shepard's gaze. "But not you. So no. No regrets. Not about this."

"The Illusive Man helped you find Oriana too, Miranda," Shepard pointed out, intrigued by this revelation.

The Cerberus operative smiled, her expression warm, frank and yet somehow still a total mystery - something Shepard was finding to be typical of the real Miranda Lawson.

"I didn't see the Illusive Man down there, risking his life to save my sister," Miranda said pointedly. With that perfect smile still firmly in place, she gave a nod of farewell and left the briefing room.

Shaking her head, Shepard turned back to the briefing desk. "EDI, has that new dossier arrived?"

In the empty space in the centre of the sleek wooden table, a display appeared in response. "Yes, Commander. Zaaed Massani, an individual that the Illusive Man describes as a 'relentless and ruthless bounty hunter,'" the AI informed her.

Staring into the image of a scarred, weathered human face brimming with insolence and bad attitude, Shepard resisted the urge to groan aloud. "Just what I need, another hardass with a chip on their shoulder."

Jack was difficult enough to deal with, and getting worse. She barely came out of her below-decks nest anymore, and when she did, she invariably picked fights with the first person she saw in a Cerberus insignia. The biotic would need to be dealt with sooner, rather than later, particularly now that she'd located a planet called Pragia and decided she wanted to blow it up to resolve all of her childhood traumas.

Leaning in closer to the slowly scrolling dossier, Shepard narrowed her eyes at the pick-up location. "Omega?"

"The Illusive Man has embedded a secure frequency we can use to notify Mr Massani once we reach Omega," EDI advised, and Shepard hoped she was reading too much into the hint of hesitation in that smooth, composed voice. If even the AI could read trouble in Massani's profile, this was going to be messy.

"Dammit. The one place in the Terminus Systems I _didn't_ want to go back to." The Commander observed the limited intel shifting through the display before her, playing out her options. On one hand, she had what amounted to an Omega inhabitant living right here on her ship. On the other hand, he wasn't exactly Mr Popularity back there.

_There's always Mordin..._

"Where's Garrus right now?" Shepard asked, with that possibility running through her mind. Mordin had been intently focussed in his lab lately, and she was reluctant to tear him away if unnecessary... but nor would she put Vakarian's life at risk for a simple collection.

"Office Vakarian is in the armory."

Shepard's eyebrows lifted in surprise before she could stop herself. The armory wouldn't normally be her first port of call in trying to track down Garrus, but lately he and Jacob had been holed up there every chance they had. In a way, it was a relief to see them working so well together. Jacob had been pretty isolated ever since Aeia. She should have known if anything would draw him out, it would be big guns – and nobody liked big guns more than Garrus.

"Thanks, EDI."

"Logging you out, Commander."

* * *

When she reached the armory, the two men were bent over the workbench with their backs to her.

"This mother is never going to recharge fast enough to get more than one, maybe two shots off in a mission," Jacob said in frustration.

"Look at that output. Do you really think anything but a Reaper will _need_ more than two shots from this thing?" Garrus purred back smugly.

_What the hell have these two cooked up?_

Shepard cleared her throat pointedly, and the two men turned quickly to regard her with matching expressions of surprise. "Haven't seen the two of you around for a while. New project?"

She watched the two of them exchange a long, measuring glance, before Garrus shrugged eloquently.

"Just a little something to keep us from getting bored, Shepard," the turian drawled back lazily, taking a step sideways. Jacob edged away as well, exposing the workbench and a squat, bulky weapon, painted a nauseating combination of black and yellow.

Shepard quirked an eyebrow and stepped closer curiously. It was a monster of a heavy weapon, but even a cursory glance showed it wasn't mass effect-based like most of their heavy weapons. It looked like a miniaturised version of something heavy infantry would use. She picked it up cautiously, testing the weight of it and finding it was about as heavy as she'd expected. This thing would be a bitch to cart around.

"We were calling it the Nuke Launcher," Jacob volunteered with a grin. "But EDI wanted something a little more official sounding to log it by, so now it's the M-920 Cain." He called up the specs on the weapon on his omni-tool, tilting his arm so that Shepard could read the display. Her eyes widened in amazement, and a surge of delight that helped push aside the edge of her frustration with the Illusive Man's lack of results.

_Hell. They built me a mini nuke. That explains the color scheme._

Shepard made the mistake of glancing sidelong at Garrus, finding him closer than she'd expected. The turian gave a lazy wink with the eye not covered by his visor, and Shepard learned very quickly that her 'ignore it and take cold showers' approach _did not work_ when he was presenting her with shiny new guns. Or standing so close. Or...

_Goddammit. _

Shepard clenched her jaw and sternly reprimanded her hormones, laying the weapon carefully back onto the bench. This sudden fascination with her best sniper was something she was still coming to terms with, but Shepard _refused_ to let things get awkward with Garrus. And hell.. he might be oblivious, but Jacob was human and he'd pick up on this if she didn't watch herself.

So she gave herself a firm mental shake, leaned back against the island workbench, and summoned up a smile for the two men.

"Impressive work," she praised. "But I overheard something about a recharge issue?"

Jacob grimaced, cutting off the spec display and crossing his arms. "Yeah. Damn thing's power cells are massive, but they run slow as hell. It has a four second charge time before you can take a shot. We're working on that, but for right now, stay in cover and watch your six if you want to use this."

"Or make sure you have the best sniper in the Terminus systems watching your back," Garrus drawled cheerfully from over her shoulder.

"Only the Terminus systems, Vakarian? You losing your edge?" Jacob shot back.

"Just trying to be modest, Taylor," the turian demurred.

Shepard shook her head. Give a pair of soldiers some shiny new guns to bond over and they'd inevitably come out buddies. But she couldn't deny she was glad to see Jacob coming out of his funk, and if he started to open up to Garrus and the other nonhumans on their team, this project had been a success beyond the development of the Cain.

"We'll take it down for a trial run on the next mission," Shepard promised Jacob.

He shot her a grin. "Appreciate that, Commander. So how'd it go with the Illusive Man? Is he pissed you're not giving him the intel?"

She tried not to grimace and failed. "He's not pulling the plug on us, which I count as a win. Still no news on the Collectors though."

"Nothing?" Garrus asked in surprise.

"Not what we need," Shepard clarified regretfully. "We're running out of time and all he has is more dossiers for us to chase our tails over."

They all knew their mission would end up at the Omega 4 relay, hunting the Collectors through it to whatever hell lay beyond. But it would be suicide to try it now. Trapped between that knowledge, and the ticking mental clock of EDI's time frame, Shepard could feel the pressure mounting.

Garrus was watching her with too damn much understanding. He exchanged a quick glance with Jacob, and the Cerberus operative pushed off from the workbench easily.

"Then if we're still en route to Daratar, I'll get the Cain down to the shuttle and make sure we're locked and loaded for planet fall," Jacob commented casually, hefting the garish weapon into his arms. He gave Shepard that quick grin that said nothing at all - much like Miranda's smile - and moved between her and Garrus to head for the door to CIC.

Shepard could feel Garrus' eyes on her as Jacob left and she wondered if he would say anything. He wasn't normally one to poke and pry, but she had been encouraging him to take on a more equal role in their friendship. The part of her that had recently become intensely curious about what he was hiding under his armor was particularly interested in seeing whether he'd try to push the boundaries.

Being Garrus, he didn't disappoint.

"Bad day?" the turian drawled smoothly at her. He turned to lean back against the workbench, crossing his arms as he faced her head on.

"I don't remember any other kind of day lately."

"Hmmm. I've been a little worried about you, Shepard. I've never seen you this tense before, not even when we were chasing after Saren."

"Things were different then," she reflected. "We didn't know the importance of what we were doing, not really. And besides, I had the Alliance, the Council and every other damn person we came across telling me what to do."

Garrus must have caught the cynicism in her tone, because the look he slanted over her was more thoughtful than amused. "If you miss being ordered around, we could give Udina a call. I know how much he enjoys telling you what to do."

Laughter tangled at the back of her throat. "No thanks. I think I'm hardwired to challenge orders these days, must have picked it up when they made me a Spectre. It's good intel I'm lacking." With a frustrated sigh, Shepard planted her palms firmly on the edge of the bench behind her and pushed herself up to sit on it. With her feet swaying an inch or two above the ground, she eyed Garrus across the small distance between them challengingly. "Besides, don't act like you aren't just as frustrated with how little we have to go on the Collectors out here."

He glanced away immediately, the evasion answer enough. Without meeting her eyes, he answered in a soft, serious voice. "We both know where this mission is going to end up, and we're still eager to get there. Some people might call us crazy." His blue eyes lifted to regard her steadily.

"Hell, Garrus, they'd probably be right." She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to ignore the strength of his gaze. "We're flying blind out here with our only set of eyes belonging to a man so twisted I doubt he can see straight. It wasn't that long ago that we were attacking Cerberus bases – _his_ bases - and now he's all I've got to help me track down the Collectors."

The blue armor in her peripheral vision shifted. Shepard looked up in time to see him moving closer, his expression serious.

"I saw EDI's analysis too, Shepard," he reminded her softly. "I know how close we are to expecting another attack on a human colony."

It was that expectation that made it so difficult – the ticking clock in the back of her brain; relentless and pounding louder than ever. Shepard exhaled slowly, and nodded. "I don't even want to imagine what happened to those poor bastards from Horizon, once the Collectors got them beyond the Omega 4 relay. I know it sure as hell wasn't pretty. I know it'll happen to more people if I don't figure out some way to stop it."

"Hey." The sharp tone was her only warning before a three-digit turian hand curled sharply around Shepard's right forearm. Startled, she looked up into Vakarian's looming face; it was as close to a frown as it could be and his eyes were fierce. Her immediate reaction was to free herself, but Shepard restrained the instinct and waited, still and patient, under his careful grip.

Garrus tilted his head towards her, eyes bright and clear. "You do remember you're not in this alone, right? I seem to recall you sweet talking me out of Omega with the promise of a walk into hell together."

Of course, she remembered. Could she even imagine doing this without him? Not just the combat, when she trusted his scope would be watching her six. But here, like this, now. Planning with her, analysing the intel, bringing a fresh set of eyes that she had come to value even more than his skill with a rifle. Shepard smiled reassuringly up into the face of his concern, and touched his hand lightly with her own.

"We remember Omega a little different, big guy, but I'll blame that on you being delirious from all that medi gel while I rescued your ass from a nest of mercs," she replied, keeping her voice deliberately light. "But since you're so keen for this road trip to hell, lay it all out for me. We've got no intel and we're running out of time. Tell me honestly, Garrus. What do you think our chances are?"

She tilted her chin at him, pinning him with her eyes. Garrus rocked back on his heels, letting go of her arm.

"Honestly? The Collectors killed you once, and all it did is piss you off. I can't imagine they'll stop you this time." His low-pitched laughter was layered with the effortless charm of Garrus Vakarian. It had her smiling, just a little, as he pushed away from the bench and began pacing the length of the armory.

Shepard watched that tactical mind of his kick into gear; the sharp cunning that she appreciated even more than his good aim. The Commander leaned back and listened intently as her right-hand man laid it all out for her in clear, surgical precision.

"An unmapped area, advanced technology, and the Collectors? We're going to lose people. No way around that." Garrus paused and eyed her carefully. "Not a happy analysis, I know. Don't worry, I won't spread it around. And I'm with you regardless."

"You're still too damn keen for missions with suicidal odds, big guy," she chastised.

"Shepard." The low, flanging tone was uncharacteristically reproving. "Whatever happens with the Collectors or the Reapers, or whoever else comes after us... I know you'll get the job done."

Her expression blanched as she tried to decide if that comment was amusing or just straight-up horrifying. "You actually think we'll find something worse than Collectors or Reapers?" she demanded, vaguely appalled at the thought.

Garrus shrugged. "I like to expect the worst. There's a small chance I'll be pleasantly surprised."

Hell. She hadn't come here for a pep talk, but damn if he wasn't giving her one. Some kind of strange turian pep talk, maybe. Because even though the situation was just as precarious as a moment ago, the path before them just as blind, somehow the unshakeable certainty of this man made it seem manageable. Shepard found herself staring at him in bemusement, trying to work out just when his faith in her had come to mean so damn much to her.

"I couldn't do this without you, Garrus," she told him bluntly, and saw him smile that strange and now-familiar turian smile.

"Sure you could. Not as stylishly, of course," he drawled back at her. Then, in an instant, the humor vanished as he stepped closer again. "I'm not saying it'll be easy. We're still blind and the clock's still ticking. But unless we somehow hook up with the Shadow Broker, Cerberus is probably the best chance we have of getting solid intel on the Collectors."

Shepard had to concede that point. Reluctantly. "So we wait."

Garrus nodded. "We wait. I know patience isn't always your best point."

_That's for damn sure._

With a low laugh, Shepard held up her hands in defence. "Okay, fine. It's not like there are any other viable options at the moment anyway. And we have enough to do in the mean time. If we don't get Jack to Pragia soon, she's going to throw a fit big enough to breach the hull."

"Mmm. And I hear Kasumi's side job has a due date."

Surprise had her sitting up straight and staring across the armory at him. "She only spoke to me about that this morning. How did you find out?"

Garrus' expression was caught somewhere between embarrassed and smug. "She sent me a message. Something about it being a two man job and she'd bring me back something pretty." The uninjured mandible twitched briefly. "I was hoping you could fill me in?"

_Damn_. Shepard shook her head. "You probably know as much as me. Bekenstein, three days from now. She promised it's infiltration only. That's all I've got. She's playing things awfully close to her chest."

"Bekenstein? That's in the middle of nowhere. What the hell does she want to steal out there?"

The Commander bit back a smile. There had never really been any doubt in her mind either about the nature of Kasumi's job. "Hell if I know. I'm just hoping it's not something that will draw any more attention to us."

He didn't look happy. "You need back up. Especially if the mission brief is this slim."

"I agree," Shepard answered easily. "Which is why I want you and Thane stationed in a shuttle, prepped and ready to evac us if necessary. I don't like running missions blind, and we still know very little about Kasumi Goto."

That eased the tense lines that were visible even under his armor. Shepard didn't like the idea of walking into Kasumi's job without Garrus watching her back. She saw no need to inform the thief about her alternate arrangements. When necessary, Shepard could play things close to her chest too.

She pushed off the work bench smoothly and lifted an arm to activate her omni-tool. "In the meantime, take a look at the dossier Cerberus sent through. We're supposed to pick him up from your old hunting grounds."

"Zaeed Massani?" Garrus asked in a tone heavy with surprise. He leaned in closer to study the dossier.

Shepard looked up and over her shoulder at him. "Sounds like you know him," she deduced.

"Everybody on Omega knows him," Garrus replied drily, his gaze flicking briefly to her own before sliding back to the scrolling dossier. "He's got more notches on his gun than both of us combined. And he's a mercenary, through and through; Cerberus must be paying him a small fortune to get him to sign up. I'm not saying he isn't worth the credits... But he can be reckless... Excessive. Where a gunshot would do, he'd use a frag grenade. Where you'd need a grenade, he'd turn an entire base to rubble. His nickname was Overkill, and it was well earned."

She studied the weathered, scarred face on the dossier speculatively. _He's definitely going to be trouble, _Shepard concluded with a mental sigh. Her eyes snagged on the edge of the tattoo barely visible at his neck, mostly hidden by the edge of his armor. She had caught it in her first quick viewing of the image, but the significance of it impacted suddenly.

"He's with the Blue Suns?"

_We spend half our time ploughing through the Suns out here, and the Illusive Man recruited one of them?_

But Garrus was shaking his head reassuringly. "Not anymore. There's definitely some kind of history there, but he almost seems to go out of his way to cause trouble for them. I don't think there'll be any conflict of interests."

Shepard's lips thinned in displeasure but she accepted that at face value. "So what's your take on recruiting him?"

The turian leaned back and considered her question seriously. "He'd be a good asset when we take on the Collectors. He's well trained, he knows his job. I wouldn't put him in charge of anything, but from what I've heard, I think he'll follow orders if there's a hefty pay check in it for him."

Nodding, she deactivated the omni-tool and let her hand drop back to her side. "That matches the intel from Cerberus. It's supposed to be a straight pickup. Maybe it will be as simple as Kasumi's."

Garrus sighed heavily. "Nothing on Omega is simple."

Well, she couldn't deny that. "Any suggestions? We've got a coded frequency to call him on once we get close, but I want to avoid any unnecessary exposure on Omega."

"You mean, you don't want anyone learning that Archangel is still alive and kicking?" He smirked at her. "Don't worry, Shepard. If we play it smart, we won't even need to leave the docking area."

She opened her mouth to reply - smug bastard always had an answer ready, didn't he? - when EDI's voice sounded overhead, terse with urgency.

"Commander, there is a disturbance in the mess hall."

Shepard met Garrus' eyes in immediate, shared understanding.

"Jack," they said simultaneously, and Shepard followed it up with a muttered curse she half hoped his translator wouldn't catch.

"Yes, Commander," EDI replied. "She has instigated physical conflict with Crewman Walker."

Shepard was halfway out the door before EDI finished her explanation and she didn't need to look over her shoulder to know that Garrus was hot on her heels. He was a shadow looming in familiar patterns, the movement caught in her peripheral vision and filtered out instantly because she knew it belonged there.

CIC passed them in a blur, and a moment later Shepard was slamming her fist down on the elevator controls, the doors sliding closed on Kelly Chambers alarmed expression. The lift dropped far too slowly down towards the Crew Deck.

"She's getting out of control," Shepard said regretfully, her thoughts coalescing into a clear decision. Meeting his gaze, she watched him read her intent in her face. She didn't like it. It felt a little too much like rewarding Jack for bad behaviour, but her options were limited if she wanted to keep Jack on the ship.

"You can't put it off much longer," Garrus agreed, regarding her sombrely. "But if the Illusive Man didn't pull his resources because you withheld the data we found on Lorek, he probably won't mind us blowing up one of Cerberus' old bases."

"Hey Joker?"

The pilot's voice answered immediately, filling the close confines of the elevator. "I'm here, Commander. In the cockpit. Avoiding the psychotic biotic."

"Can we make Pragia and still get to Bekenstein in time?"

There was a pause while Joker ran the numbers. "It'll be tight, Commander. You'll only have a few hours on Pragia. Uh. How long does it take to resolve years of trauma and _that_ much crazy?"

Shepard grimaced. "How long does it take to blow up a base?"

The doors opened and she and Vakarian moved out instantly, rounding the corners at a swift pace. Shepard expected to come into a combat situation, figuring she'd have to drop Jack to end whatever fight the girl had picked today. The Commander readied her own biotics, even though she knew she was no match for Jack on that playing field. It was still safer than firing a weapon as a disciplinary measure.

What they found instead was entirely unexpected.

Shepard came to a sudden halt at the edge of the mess hall, Vakarian skidding to a stop beside her. There were a handful of crew crouched behind the overturned dining table, and Gardner peeked up over the edge of his galley. Chairs were tumbled here and there, scattered with overturned trays of food that had been smeared across the deck. In the centre of it, sporting a nosebleed and a split lip, Jack had been knocked onto her ass. Samara stood over her, heeled feet nestled neatly between the legs of an upturned chair and her expression as serenely composed as ever. The active biotic field radiating a faint blue over the asari told the story clearer than words could.

The Justicar glanced up at their approach.

"I hope you don't mind my intervention, Shepard. Old habits are hard to break," Samara commented calmly.

Garrus cleared his throat. "You didn't have any trouble?" he asked, and Shepard could read the surprise in his voice. Personally, she didn't know what to say. She'd seen Samara in action, but she'd also seen Jack. In all honesty, Shepard would have ranked them pretty damn close to even on the biotic scale.

"Your companion is very powerful, but a thousand years of honing ones abilities does bring certain advantages," Samara replied, letting the biotic field collapse back into her skin. She smiled down at Jack, and there was something almost like fondness there. "She reminds me of my daughter. When she was very, very young."

Jack's upper lip twisted into the familiar snarl, and Shepard decided to step in before the ex-convict started the fight again.

"Jack, enough. We're scheduled to hit Pragia in the next 24 hours."

That made the girl pause. She hesitated, then pulled herself to her feet. It was easy to see Jack was still suspicious, still angry and looking for a fight. But they all knew Jack had been taking her frustration out on whoever crossed her path and with her reason for being pissed taken away, she hesitated for a moment. Then the biotic jerked her chin at Garrus.

"I suppose Blue is coming along too?" she demanded.

Shepard didn't have to reply. Garrus did it for her, his voice low and resonant as it came from somewhere past her right shoulder.

"That's the plan. You know how much I enjoy blowing things up."

It was a delicate moment and Shepard wasn't sure if she'd still have to take Jack down or not. But the lazy humor in Garrus' reply turned the mood. Jack snorted scornfully, but her mouth was curling up into a grin. She wiped at the line of blood under her nose, smearing it more than removing it, and Jack flicked her attention from Garrus to Shepard and then - briefly - to Samara.

The Justicar was the epitome of composure, smiling faintly as she regarded Jack in return.

"I wish you luck on your mission, Jack. Perhaps you will find what you're looking for there." Samara turned, tilting her head towards them. "Commander Shepard. Officer Vakarian."

She moved past them smoothly, that careful control emanating from her as she departed the room. Shepard gave her a distracted nod, made a mental note to stop by and thank her later on, and kept her attention on Jack.

The biotic was regarding her with a growing grin that was just a little too wild. "It's about damn time, Shepard. I was starting to think I'd have to kill you and take the ship there myself."

It was Jack and it was probably hot air but it was never a good idea to underestimate someone as broken as her. Shepard gave her an ironic smile in return and said nothing until the girl had sauntered out. Jack was getting what she wanted. It was the deal Shepard had made to get her on board, and past time she kept her end.

Afterwards? She would have to see how Jack decided to play her cards after Pragia. There was still every chance the girl would ditch them at the first stop they made.

The crew that had been eating in the mess hall before Jack arrived began to carefully emerge from behind the scattered cover they'd taken refuge behind. Shepard didn't blame them. None of them were biotic, and even she didn't go armed around the Normandy. She felt Garrus sigh beside her.

"Anybody hurt?" Shepard asked, scanning the handful of crew carefully. Sarah Walker, the navigator who had probably done something entirely innocent and been the inadvertent trigger to Jack's bad mood, lifted a hand slowly. Her other arm hung twisted and clearly damaged at her side.

_Dammit. _She looked from the injured navigator to the chaos of the mess hall and restrained the urge to curse. They were due to land on Daratar in less than an hour, and Jacob was waiting down in the shuttle bay for her already. Jack could spend the next few hours cooling off; Shepard would deal with her when they got back.

Garrus' hand landed on her shoulder, sudden and unexpected. Long turian fingers pressed down gently. "I can deal with this mess, Shepard. You head down to the shuttle bay and get ready. I'll meet you there in half an hour."

The tension that had been coiling through her body eased out in a sudden rush. Shepard exhaled slowly, and turned to meet his gaze in a moment of silent recognition. His focus was clear and relaxed; the consummate professional. Hell, Garrus had more experience dealing with the after-effects of domestic disputes than she did, thanks to his days in C-Sec. This was right up his alley.

_I couldn't do this without you, Garrus._

And it wasn't just the mission. It had never been just the mission. It was the day to day crap that life threw at her, running the Normandy and trying to keep everything on track. It was too big for one person to cope with, even if that person was Commander Shepard.

She watched Garrus give her a reassuring nod, before he turned away to deal with this minor matter; releasing her to focus on the mission. Shepard turned without a word and made her way back towards the elevator, her head full of thoughts she'd been trying to suppress for the past few weeks.

She _needed_ Garrus. Not just in combat, not just as a friend to pass the time with. Shepard looked at her life and her job, and she couldn't see it working without him anymore. She'd ruthlessly buried her unexpected attraction to him because she figured it was a ridiculous idea that could never work. A human and a turian? Forty years ago, they'd been at war.

But Commander Shepard wasn't just _some human_, and Garrus Vakarian had never been _just another turian._

So, what the hell. As Shepard stepped into the elevator and it dropped her down deeper into the belly of the Normandy, she allowed herself to open her mind to the possibility of maybe... perhaps... one day acting on this.

_Well, hell. I guess it's time to stop the cold showers and see where this goes._


	13. Chapter 12: The Rose of Battle

**A/N** - Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, favorites, alerts this story! The positive feedback is wonderful and really does make my day when I get it. :) Also, I really do listen to the feedback. A (damn long) while back, Shini-666 asked for some Grunt and so I (eventually) delivered! I kind of adored writing for Grunt, so I suspect he'll pop back up in later chapters.

As always, my thanks to Stormflite for the beta and feedback. Enjoy! :)

* * *

The shock of the impact was almost worse than the pain. Vakarian's head snapped back sharply under the force of an armoured krogan head, and the velocity of the collision sent him crashing backwards onto the deck.

_Krogans are armoured to hell and back, and built like a tank. It is completely unfair that they can move that damn fast as well. _

Garrus stretched out careful hands along the deck plating he'd been knocked onto, breathing out slowly as he waited for the white edges of his vision to clear. He could feel the slight vibration of Grunt's footsteps as the young krogan approached him slowly.

"Vakarian? You alive?"

_Give me a minute while I figure out the answer to that. _

With a low groan, Garrus dragged himself up into a sitting position and attempted to focus his gaze on Grunt. His sparring partner stood nearby and if a krogan was capable of being skittish, Grunt was looking it right now. Garrus was pleased to see he was keeping his distance, all the same. The turian had taught him that just because Garrus Vakarian went down in a fight, it didn't mean he was out for good.

Except for this time. Maybe. Probably.

Pulling himself to his feet and shaking his head to clear the last of the dizziness, Garrus squinted at his squad mate. "That came out of nowhere. Are we still just sparring, or is there something I need to know about?"

Grunt shifted his weight. "Your species is harder to kill than most others. If I wanted you dead, I'd bring a weapon."

It was the closest Grunt would ever get to an apology. Garrus nodded acknowledgement, and rubbed at his aching face. "Hmm. Guess you don't know your own strength."

He'd been working fairly closely with Grunt over the past few weeks, running him through a training regime in order to actualize the tank-trained potential built into him by Okeer. Hand to hand sparring with a krogan was always risky, but Garrus had learned how to do it right with Urdnot Wrex. While he'd been more than impressed with the newborn krogans abilities, Grunt's recent aggressiveness was starting to concern him. Krogans were just as capable of pulling their punches for friendly matches as turians or humans were, but today Grunt had seen his opening and taken it with as much ferocity as if he were in live combat.

Nor was it the first time Garrus had watched the young krogan react with a level of violence inconsistent with the situation.

Grunt turned his head to look at him properly. He sniffed sharply. "You're bleeding, turian."

Garrus lifted a hand to his left cheek and pulled away fingers spotted with blue blood. "It'll stop in a minute," he assured Grunt, shrugging it off. "I'm asking one last time. Something I should know about?"

The krogan shifted his weight under Garrus' level stare. "The tank tells me how to kill your kind. How to kill asari, salarian, even quarian. But they're just words. Sounds and pictures in my head. When we fight, it _burns_. Everything the tank told me starts to burn and I want to rip things apart. I want _blood_, Garrus."

_Greaaaat. Bloodthirsty krogan on our hands._

Garrus sighed as he watched the newborn krogan move about restlessly. It looked less like pacing and more like watching a trapped animal in a cage. He enjoy seeing the kid freaking out like this, but part of his mind was wondering just what they'd brought on board. Could they trust him?

"Ease down, Grunt," he advised, putting enough steel threading through his voice to halt the krogan. "I'm sure it's something all the tank-born went through when they first came into the world."

Grunt turned on him, his unusual blue eyes blazing. "And if it's not? If there's something wrong with me?"

"Then Shepard will deal with it. We've got two doctors on board and the best AI in the galaxy."

"Thank you, Officer Vakarian," EDI inserted, her smooth tones filling the training room unexpectedly.

Garrus flicked a mandible. The AI was good, but he didn't entirely trust it yet either. His visor could track the rapid heartbeat of the krogan easing back into its normal rhythm, even as he watched Grunt's restlessness fade away into cautious stillness.

"Whatever's going on, we'll deal with it, Grunt."

He didn't say it, because he didn't need to. Grunt knew if it came down to it and they had no other choice, dealing with it would involve a bullet to the brain. Garrus watched him nod in acceptance and relief.

"You do that, turian. We're done here."

Garrus let the krogan leave, his mandibles twitching in thought. Shepard would not be happy if they had to put Grunt down or leave him behind. In spite of his recklessness, the Commander had a definite soft spot for their tank-born krogan. Personally, he'd noticed that the Commander had a soft spot for anything that was particularly dangerous and inadvisable to keep around.

_Must be why she likes me so much._

Picking up a nearby towel and pressing it lightly to his aching face to stop the bleeding, Garrus considered his options. He'd kept quiet so far about Grunt's increasing aggression because he figured it wasn't that big a deal. But he'd never taken a potentially-lethal strike in training spars before, and that was a line crossed that Garrus couldn't ignore. Shepard had to be told.

Because there was no way in hell Garrus was letting her risk herself – or the mission – on an unstable squad member.

* * *

By the time he made it up to Shepard's cabin, they were only an hour away from Bekenstein and he was a little nervous about disturbing her when she'd be prepping for the mission. Garrus was still not happy about Kasumi being her only backup, but Shepard had been damn insistent that it wasn't going to be a problem.

The door opened before him and Garrus found himself blinking in shock at a dramatically altered Commander Shepard. She smiled a cheerful welcome and stepped back to let him enter.

"Shepard?" Garrus asked uncertainly, looking her over in confusion.

Gone was the armor; gone were the military lines of her ship board uniform. His gaze fluttered over the sight of his Commander in something small, sleek and black, unsure of where to look. Garrus dropped his gaze down, spotted her bare feet – _so many toes!_ – and snapped back up to her face in confusion. He'd obviously interrupted her.

"Get your ass inside, Vakarian. I could use a little help with this."

Garrus moved cautiously into the cabin, watching as she crossed the room bare foot to pick something silver up from her bed. He remained hovering at the top of the stairs, waiting for his brain to catch up enough to say something. Anything.

_Any minute now. Come on, Vakarian._

"What ... is this?" the turian managed.

Damn her, she didn't even have the grace to look uncomfortable. Shepard grinned up at him and shrugged shoulders that were pale and bare under the sleek black lines of her dress.

"Kasumi doesn't like doing things the old fashioned way. No walking in and shooting things up. Personally, I think she just can't do anything without being sneaky about it."

Garrus felt his mandibles twitch sharply and hoped it would be taken for a smile. "She's a thief. It's a failing they all seem to have, and one of the reasons they all slip up in the end."

He didn't trust thieves, though he was warming up to Kasumi. But the mission parameters here were a little too loose for his liking and if things went south... Garrus slanted his gaze down over her speculatively as he stepped carefully down to where she stood, barefoot and unarmored.

Shepard winked at him and threw something in his direction.

His hands closed instinctively around a silver half-disc necklace. Garrus held it up cautiously between two fingers, his head tilted as he studied it. When he looked up again, Shepard was standing directly in front of him, turning so that her back was facing him.

"I spent five minutes fiddling with the clasp before you got here. Help me get the damn thing on, and if you have anything to say about the outfit, just remember that I know where Tali keeps her shotgun."

That drew a genuine chuckle from him, and he gave the clasp of the necklace a careful look. "Hmm."

_Can't be too hard. I've field stripped a geth plasma rifle. _

Garrus tentatively lowered the disc in front of his Commander's face, letting her adjust its placement with one hand, while the other held her hair out of the way.

Not surprisingly, the edge of his talon grazed the back of her neck as he worked the delicate clasp and Garrus froze for a moment. A thin pink line appeared on her neck, but no blood rose to indicate he'd broken the skin. Nor did Shepard flinch or react, although that didn't surprise him.

_Human skin is tougher than it looks,_ he decided just as the clasp slid into place. With a satisfied noise, Garrus stepped back and watched her turn to face him again. The silver disc at her throat caught the light and refracted it in a distracting manner. Presumably another loan from Kasumi. The only thing he'd seen Shepard wear around her throat was her dog tags.

"This feels wrong," Garrus admitted. "You going in without weapons, or armor or backup."

When he looked her over, she seemed delicate. Pale and soft, all wrapped up in black silk. It was so _not_ Commander Shepard that he thought his brain was about to implode until he managed to drag his gaze back up to eye level. For the first time since entering her cabin, Garrus met her gaze.

The look there was pure Shepard. Dangerous. Deadly. Tension eased out of him in a low sigh, and Garrus knew if their enemies ignored the dress, they'd spot her for what she was immediately.

"Who says I'm not armed?' Shepard replied sleekly.

Okay, so she had her biotics, but the smugness in her expression... The confidence in her stance... It roused all his old cop instincts and Garrus narrowed his eyes at her with sudden suspicion. She definitely had a gun on her somewhere. He flicked his gaze over her again, appraising the human curves and lines of her body intently. She was still barefoot, legs bare from the knees down, arms completely bare. He couldn't see where she could hide a spare thermal clip, let alone an entire weapon.

"Alright, I give up. Where the hell is it?" Garrus demanded eventually.

Damn if her eyes didn't just sparkle pure innocence back at him. Shepard's grin widened, and she held her arms out invitingly. "Wanna frisk me, Officer Vakarian?"

Garrus stopped the laugh before it got free, giving a startled cough instead. "Damn, Shepard. They're not going to know what hit them. Are you sure I can't come along?"

"I don't think Kasumi has a dress in your size."

She grabbed a pair of shoes that had been sitting by the bed, dropping onto its edge so she could pull them on. They were nothing like her usual combat boots. This was the kind of pointless, spike-heeled debacle that was so popular amongst the Citadel's asari population.

Garrus studied them dubiously. "Can you run in those things?"

He watched her slide first one foot, then the other into the shoes, before standing cautiously to check her balance. Shepard gave a one-shouldered shrug and smiled ruefully. "Probably not, but I can always ditch them if I have to." Now dressed and - apparently - armed, Shepard turned her entire attention on him. "So what's up, big guy? I'm sure you didn't come here just to watch me get dressed."

_Maybe not, but it sure was interesting._

There was a wicked glint in her eyes, and Garrus knew better than to rise to the bait when she was teasing. Clearing his throat, he turned his head slightly; just enough to bring into sight the bruise darkening his left side. "I'm concerned about Grunt. He got a little feisty in our training session."

He watched the cheerful smile vanish into a stern frown. Shepard moved closer, reaching out one bare hand to touch his jaw lightly. He could tell she was being careful as she turned his face slightly to get a better view, and it didn't exactly _hurt.._. Garrus blinked down at her in surprise. As a rule, Shepard wasn't overly tactile. Except, lately, with him.

"What the hell happened? It looks like he head-butted you halfway into the deck."

"Ahhh. You make it sound so much less manly that way," Garrus complained, as she dropped her hand back. She switched instantly to 'Commander', dropping one hip and crossing her arms, and it didn't matter that she was in a tiny scrap of a dress. She was Commander Shepard, and the fact that she could fling him across the length of the room with her biotics was in no way the reason she was so dangerous. It was that mind, working sharply behind that intense gaze, and Garrus had to force himself not to look away while she considered the implications.

Eventually she sighed, and her shoulders dropped. "Dammit. Garrus, I'm sorry. I'm starting to think I should have left him in the tank."

It wasn't what he'd expected, but that wasn't an unusual sensation with her. "Not your fault. I should have recognized he was losing control and ended the session sooner. He's been managing fairly well lately, I thought he could keep it in check." Garrus shrugged regretfully. "I misread the situation."

Shepard shook her head. "He would have killed anyone else with that kind of force. You know that."

_That's why I don't let him spar with anyone else._

"He thinks there's something wrong with him. I'd like Mordin and Dr Chakwas to give him a once-over," Garrus suggested, smoothly diverting her from his minor injuries.

She flicked her gaze over his bruised cheek and sighed. "Not a bad idea. I don't want my crew getting banged up even before they leave the damn ship. There's been enough of that lately."

He nodded agreement, the memory of Jack and Miranda's catfight after Pragia still too fresh in his mind. "Hopefully I won't have to over-exert myself by rescuing you today," he teased, letting the lazy drawl cover his own concerns. Maybe it even worked, because Shepard laughed in response.

"You won't get the chance to even the score today," she reassured him, stepping past on her way to the door. "Come on, Kasumi will be down in the shuttle bay already. Walk me down. You and Thane ready?"

Sending Shepard in undercover and with minimal backup made Garrus edgy. But if he had to take anyone as backup for a possible rescue mission, he was glad it was Krios. He knew the drell could handle himself under fire.

"We're ready, Shepard. You need us, we'll be there."

They exited her cabin, and the Commander paused at the elevator controls. Her eyes gleamed in the low lighting outside her cabin.

"I never doubted that for a second, Vakarian."

* * *

Garrus had disassembled a spare Carnifex stored in the Kodiak and was cleaning each separate component with a careful and deliberate precision. If he didn't, his only option would be to try calibrating the eezo core of the shuttle and Shepard would never stop teasing him if he did that.

He _really_ hated waiting. Garrus had never been one for the support role, never one to hang back while there was a job to be done. In the turian military, he'd been first to put his hand up for any mission. In C-Sec, his reputation for reckless enthusiasm had been well earned. What it came down to was the simple fact that he _liked_ being a soldier. It was what he was good at. The feel of a rifle in his grip, the enemy in his scope. There was no time for hesitation in moments like those. Everything was black and white and the universe was outlined in perfect clarity and it all made sense.

Of course, never more so than when he was going into battle with Shepard. There was something about her that brought out the best in him. It sharpened his instincts to a razor's edge, and Garrus found himself operating at a level beyond anything he'd known before. She inspired him.

And he damn well hated sitting here in the shuttle, knowing she was out there - probably getting shot at, because Shepard hated all that sneaking around - while he was stuck here, cleaning his guns.

"I find the recoil from the Carnifex too high to make it worth the additional damage it delivers," Thane commented from the other side of the shuttle.

Garrus blinked and studied the component pieces of the gun laid out before him. "The Carnie has a killer kickback," he agreed absently. "I didn't think you went in much for pistols anyway?"

He looked up in time to see Thane shrug in that strangely graceful way the drell had. "I use the tool necessary for the task. At times it has been a pistol. At times a blade. Once, an article of the targets own clothing."

"Uh-huh," Garrus drawled. "On the grounds that I used to be a cop, and I'm pretty damn sure at least one of your targets was one of my homicide cases, can we agree not to discuss your work history?"

But he was smirking as he said it, and Krios smiled faintly in response.

"Of course, Officer Vakarian. That was most inconsiderate of me."

Chuckling under his breath, Garrus began the task of meticulously and carefully reassembling the Carnifex.

"Does it concern you to have a criminal on board your ship?" Thane asked after a moment, disrupting the peaceful silence.

Garrus flared his mandibles and tried not to laugh. "Firstly, it's not _my_ ship. And secondly... We busted Jack straight out of prison. Kasumi and Shepard are out robbing Hock blind as we speak. The Normandy was built by a terrorist organization, which half the crew belong to." He glanced up to meet Thane's gaze, chuckling openly. "Being an ex-cop definitely makes me the odd man out. Besides, I was a wanted vigilante on Omega."

"But not a criminal," Thane pointed out, that hinted smile touching his lips again. "You cannot commit crimes in a place with no laws."

Waving the piercing mod in his grip dismissively, Garrus drawled back, "that's just a technicality. Although if I were you, I'd be more worried about Samara. That's a lady who takes her law-enforcement seriously."

"Mmm." There was a creak of leather from Krios' coat as he leaned forward. "Samara and I have spoken. She is very forthright about the nature and limitations of her oath to Shepard."

"Oh?" That had the edge of something significant laying under it, and Vakarian paused in his task. The last thing they needed was conflict between Krios and Samara, there'd been enough disputes amongst the crew lately. Straightening, he regarded the drell intently. "How did that go?"

There was stillness for a moment, as Krios returned his gaze steadily. Then both sets of drell eyelids blinked in rapid succession, and Thane was outright smiling. "You still say it's not your ship?"

Abruptly, Garrus felt uncomfortable. He knew he was more involved in the day to day running of the Normandy SR-2 than he ever had been of its predecessor. Back then, he'd limited his responsibility to making sure the Mako could take whatever new punishment Shepard wanted to dish out to it. This time round he was dealing with everything from training programs to Gardner's maintenance requests. Anything and everything he could do to make Shepard's life a little easier.

"It's Shepard's ship. I just help keep it running smoothly," he replied lamely.

It was an understatement and from the amused slant to Thane's mouth, he knew the drell recognized that too. Krios had barely been with them for two weeks, and he'd already spotted that Garrus Vakarian was more than just the gunnery officer.

"Commander Shepard is fortunate to have such a capable... companion," Thane commented, with all kinds of implication running through his gravel-edged voice.

It set Garrus' teeth on edge. "What the hell does that mean?" he demanded bluntly, curling his hand into a fist around the half-assembled gun. The remaining parts of the Carnifex littered around him were momentarily disregarded.

Thane leaned his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands lightly over his chest as he regarded Garrus thoughtfully. "There are few people in this galaxy who could inspire the loyalty and respect that your Commander Shepard does. Yet the task she has undertaken is dangerous and difficult for any one person. It is Shepard's own integrity and determination that make her the leader she is. If she were to lose herself to the mission, she would lose that which makes her capable of succeeding."

Listening to the sombre, low-pitched voice of the drell, Garrus felt a frisson of unease run down his spine. He knew what Thane meant. He'd seen Shepard starting to crack in the last few weeks. Ever since they left the Citadel, the lack of direction and clear goals had set her to chafing at the bit. Her increasing tension had been apparent enough that he'd stepped up wherever he could, taking over any task that would free up her time to focus on the big picture.

It was the job of the second in command, he supposed. But only now, as Thane regarded him so intently, did Garrus fully understand why she'd been so insistent he take that role on. Would Miranda have concerned herself with Shepard's state of mind?

"Siha is fortunate to have a man like you on which to depend," Thane added quietly.

The strange name shattered the moment, and Garrus glanced down at the weapon in his hands. Exhaling sharply, he picked up another mod and continued on with his task. "Siha?" Vakarian inquired as casually as he could.

"It is from the old beliefs of my people. A warrior of sorts. Do you not find it aptly suited to our bold Commander?"

He had a pet name for Shepard already? The damn lizard had only been on board for two weeks. Did Shepard know? If she did, she'd be unlikely to take offense. Being named for a mythological warrior had to be pretty flattering.

"I think Shepard suits her just fine," Garrus snapped back, slotting the extended barrel mod back onto the Carnifex with slightly more force than was strictly necessary.

If he looked up, he just knew he'd see Krios smirking. So Garrus kept his eyes focussed intently on the task at hand, snapping pieces back onto the hand cannon with the ease of long practice and familiarity.

"That is true. Although," Thane added thoughtfully, "she does make an impressive Alison Gunn."

Garrus snorted, because that was another source of irritation for him. "Kasumi should have known better than to cross Shepard's real history to establish the cover story. Giving Gunn credit for taking out Archangel just to boost her kill count was too risky."

"A lie is best concealed between two truths," Thane pointed out pragmatically. "Or would you rather the Blue Suns claimed that honor?"

He had a point there, Garrus had to admit it. At least Shepard was capable of taking him out. Maybe. But now he had a mental image of Shepard in that dress, and him in unscarred armor, back on Omega. Her felt himself grin a little.

Alison Gunn and Archangel. They probably would have made a pretty good team.

With a quick movement, Garrus snapped the last piece back onto the Carnifex and shot to his feet. "Doesn't really matter, I suppose. As soon as Shepard's done with this mission, Gunn will be as dead as Archangel."

Vakarian slotted the weapon back into the rack fastened to the wall of the Kodiak. He turned back to find Thane watching him with that same quiet expectation. The drell had been a question mark in his mind since he joined up, and since Krios was in a rare conversational mood today, Garrus decided to take advantage of it.

"Tell me, Thane. Why did you join up for this mission?" he asked, dropping his hip against the weapons rack and crossing his arms.

"Shepard has told you of my illness?" Thane countered politely. His tone made it less a question and more of a statement.

Garrus hesitated briefly. "You don't look sick, but she says its serious. Should you be putting yourself through this kind of stress?"

Krios didn't look at all concerned to discuss his illness. "I remain more than capable of functioning in combat. Doctor Chakwas monitors me daily and we have agreed that if I am not fit for combat, I will leave the Normandy." He shrugged in a nonchalant way. "We do not anticipate my reaching that level for some time yet. Kepral's Syndrome is degenerative but it progresses through several measurable stages. I will not fail you or your Commander in combat, Vakarian."

That was a relief, at least. But Garrus kept a puzzled gaze pinned on the seated drell. "If this disease truly is terminal... Why do you want to spend your last month's doing _this_?"

He couldn't help but picture his mother. He hadn't seen her for over two years, but he knew the nature of her disease. She wouldn't last out the year. All Garrus wanted was for her last days to be as peaceful and pain-free as possible. Thane's choice baffled him.

Krios sighed and held out his hands, palms turned upwards. "On Illium, I told you and Shepard that I had retired. I will take no further contracts. The only people these hands will send to Kalihira will be Shepard's enemies." His gaze lifted, settling on Garrus with disturbing clarity. "Your enemies. I have spent my days as the weapon to other people's wars. If I am to die, I will do so in the way of my choosing. Shepard's cause is a just one."

Garrus exhaled slowly in understanding. It was the same choice he'd made on Omega. If he were going out, he'd go out in style. His way, bringing death from above with the clear, sharp focus of a sniper scope.

He met Thane's eyes in silent recognition of the prickly awareness that had grown between the two of them since the drell joined. It was built of many things. The cop and the assassin, the paranoid XO and the dangerous living weapon running free on the ship; the keen and unspoken regard for Shepard herself. There were things tied up in that wariness that Garrus had tried not to understand, but he had a choice right now to hold onto it or let it go.

Vakarian nodded once and made the call. "As far as I'm concerned, having you on the Normandy improves our chances. As long as you don't put the mission in jeopardy, I'm happy to have you along."

He watched the drell relax subtly, leaning back into his seat and drawing his upturned hands back together. "We are brothers of Amonkira, Officer Vakarian. It is right that there should be understanding between us."

With his watchful eyes and careful observation, Thane had seen that Garrus was more than the gunnery officer and that was a good thing. It meant that Krios understood that while the mission was important, one thing mattered more in Garrus Vakarian's book: keeping Shepard alive.

Krios was right. It was important that they understand one another.

"_Shepard to Kodiak, Shepard to Kodiak, come in!"_

The Commander's voice filled the small shuttle and both men were moving immediately. Garrus was a tad faster at slapping down the radio control.

"Shepard, it's me. We're on our way to evac, what's the situation?"

He shot a sharp glance at Krios, and was pleased to see the drell already heating up the engines. A thrum under his feet foretold the sudden tilt of the horizon through the forward view screen as the Kodiak lifted vertically in sharp ascent. They had the coordinates of Hock's estate, and Thane had them on a direct path.

"_I've got a fucking gunship pinning me down, I need some air support. The bastard has some kind of shields on this thing, and I'm running out of clips here."_

Garrus clenched his hands into fists. He _knew_ this mission would go south.

Shepard sounded tense, and he could hear the sharp staccato bursts of gunfire in the background as she returned fire. Ground assault and a gunship in the air, with only Kasumi as backup. Kasumi, who's strength was infiltration, not fire fights. His stomach twisted.

"We'll be there in under two minutes, Shepard. Hold on," Garrus answered her, keeping his voice as level and calm as possible. She didn't need to hear him panicking.

_Keep your head down and don't get shot, Shepard._

Krios was already pushing the Kodiak to maximum velocity as they careened over the surface of Bekenstein. Garrus pressed his mandibles flat and shared a tense look with the drell.

"Faster, Thane. Go faster."

Thane nodded. The engines redlined and the passing landscape turned into a blur.

* * *

Less than ten minutes later, Garrus was back in the main cabin of the Kodiak, trying to force himself to stop watching Shepard. She was speaking quietly to Kasumi at the other end of the shuttle and the voices of the two women were soft enough that even he couldn't catch their words over the background thrum of the engines. Neither woman was seriously hurt, although Kasumi had been limping when he'd pulled her onboard, and Shepard was tugging at her right gauntlet as if something under the ablative plating was bothering her.

But she was alive. Seeing that gunship wheeling around towards her, mechs closing in on her position, while he was still too far out of range to stop it, was the stuff of nightmares. The shuttle had arrived in time for him to catch Kasumi's stunning acrobatics, disabling the gunship shields so Shepard had been able to fire twin missiles right down its gullet. Watching the thief's incredible aerial assault, Garrus had silently apologised for every doubt he'd ever had about her.

He didn't have time to look away when Shepard glanced up at met his eyes. His mandibles shifted into an attempt at a smile, but it felt uncertain and awkward even to him. Garrus watched her give the petite thief a pat on the arm, before Shepard headed back down to his end of the shuttle. She dropped tiredly into the seat opposite him.

"You think people will stop inviting me to parties after today?" she asked him curiously.

Garrus couldn't help the quick glance towards Kasumi, already lost in the graybox memories of her dead partner. "I think you need a better date for this kind of party."

Her small human mouth curved upwards at the corners. "Someone a little taller, with a really sexy rifle?"

"Something like that," Garrus managed, and her smile broadened briefly.

He wasn't an idiot. He knew his paranoid obsession with Shepard's safety went beyond what was reasonable for an XO, and maybe even for a best friend. There weren't words to describe what Shepard was to him. Thane Krios might have a whole religion to guide his life. Garrus just had those twin guiding stars: _Keep Shepard alive, and finish the mission._

"Don't worry, big guy," Shepard reassured him with a weary grin. "You're still my favourite dance partner."

Unable to focus on anything but her, Garrus smiled a little and acknowledged that he might have a problem. But whatever else she was, or wasn't, Shepard was still and always his Commander. He might be a bad turian where it counted, but he was good for her. He would do what needed to be done, whatever it was, to keep her safe and finish the mission.

The thud of contact as the Kodiak came to rest in the Normandy's shuttle bay jarred his feet. Garrus cast a quick glance over her as she rose to her feet, and was reassured by the smoothness of the movement. No major injuries, which was almost a miracle given the devastation she'd left behind her on Bekenstein.

"_Shepard, you'd better get up to the briefing room, pronto_." Joker's voice sounded audibly tense as it crackled over the radio. He'd probably been waiting impatiently for them to dock.

"What's going on, Joker?" Shepard demanded. She gave Garrus a single, eloquent look as she passed him, and he fell in at her side as they left the shuttle.

"_The Illusive Man is on the horn, and Miranda says he's got something for us. Something big."_

Garrus was close enough to hear Shepard's sharp intake of breath. When he looked over, his visor easily picked up the increase in her heart rate, and he felt more than saw the momentary pause in her step. Then she was moving at a sharp pace towards the elevator.

"Got it, Joker. We're on our way."

"You think he's found a way through the Omega 4 Relay?" Garrus asked with a sudden surge of anticipation.

He could almost see the tension of the past week falling away from her. As she slammed a hand down on the elevator controls and gave him a quick grin, Shepard didn't look tired or anxious. She looked _eager._

"I damn well hope so," Shepard replied with a fierce smile.

_This_ was what made her who she was, Garrus decided with a kind of quiet pride. Shepard would do what she had to, whether it was helping a crew mate blow up her childhood hell, or steal back the memories of her dead lover... or lead a strike team through an unmapped relay to take out an alien menace threatening the entire galaxy. She'd do it because nobody else would and it needed to be done.

But he knew one thing for sure. She'd be doing it with Garrus Vakarian at her side, watching her back every step of the way.


	14. Chapter 13: Reach

**A/N** - I'm not dead, I swear! But I am in my last semester of my degree and school stole my life... In apology for the huuuuuge lag in updates, I'm giving you the chapter you've all been waiting for. :)

Again, many thanks to Stormflite for being my beta on this!

* * *

_Fucking Illusive Man. I'll kill him, I swear to god. If I ever meet that son of a bitch in the flesh, I'm gonna put a bullet between his eyes. Fuck!_

They were running for their lives, with husks and Collectors and god knew what else hot on their heels. The Collector ship had been a trap, full to bursting with all manner of nightmares and abominations. The sickeningly flesh-like walls of the alien corridor blurred past Shepard as she led her team back to the shuttle at a dead run. There was no hope of killing everything on this ship. Their only option was escape; to run as far and fast as they could and hope like hell they were lucky enough to make it.

"Shepard, trouble up ahead!"

She could hear the hitch in Garrus' voice that showed he was tiring. Shepard clenched her hand tighter around her pistol and tried not to swear.

"Oh god, what now?" Miranda gasped, even her superior genetics pushed to the limit.

Garrus didn't need to answer. The iridescent blue of husk cybernetics caught the low lighting as dozens of the repurposed human corpses lurched down the corridor towards them. Shepard could see the Kodiak at the far end of the corridor, past the shifting bodies of approaching husks. She risked a quick sidelong glance at her squad and reached a swift decision.

"Run like hell," she ordered desperately. They were low on thermal clips and all of them were pushed past endurance. Miranda was visibly favoring her left leg and Garrus' armor was badly scorched in some worrying spots. They didn't have the stamina or the clips to take out all those husks.

They just had to make it to the shuttle. Fast, because she could hear the thrum of the Collector ship around them as it powered back up.

The three of them acted like a well-oiled machine now. Garrus took the long range, firing deep into the pack of bodies with his rifle. Miranda broke them up and knocked them off their feet with her biotics. Shepard followed close on their heels and took the precision, close-quarter kills with her pistol, firing off headshots whenever a husk remained in their path. The bastards were awkward and lumbering but damn quick when they wanted to be, and they had a grip like nothing else. They were lucky or fast enough to make it through the pack of husks without any of them getting grabbed. Shepard was half-turned now as she raced for the shuttle, firing behind them into the darkness. The glowing blue eyes of the husks gave her something solid to aim at.

Miranda hit the shuttle first, slamming a fist down on the exterior door controls and swearing at it when it opened sluggishly. Shepard and Garrus reached her a heartbeat later, both of them spinning to put their backs to the shuttle, weapons aimed at the fast-closing horde. Behind her, Shepard heard Miranda climb into the shuttle, and knew she'd be heading straight for the pilot's seat.

Garrus' rifle was a series of staccato bursts between the steady beat of her own pistol firing, but the husks were getting through. They scrambled backwards into the shuttle even as Miranda guided it up off the ground, the door still gaping wide open.

"Miranda, get us the hell out of here!" Shepard yelled over her shoulder, and felt the answering rumble of the engines under her feet as Miranda obeyed.

Shepard let herself relax too soon; she heard a sudden shout of alarm from Garrus. Spinning back, she saw a husk had taken a leap before the shuttle rose out of range, and had latched onto the back of the turian's armor. The extra weight was dragging Garrus backwards through the half-closed doors of the shuttle. In alarm, Shepard saw him struggle to free his rifle, clinging tightly to the door frame as the Kodiak rose up higher.

Shepard moved immediately, wrapping an arm around his torso to hold him steady and bracing herself against the door of the shuttle. Looking down over his shoulder, she saw the husk begin climbing up his body, determined to bring the turian down with it when it fell, or maybe still trying to get into the shuttle. Her eyes narrowed.

_Don't you fucking dare._

Sharp fury lanced through the Commander as she sighted her pistol down on the husk and fired. Its head exploded on impact, the body falling away from Garrus limply as Shepard roughly pulled him back into the shuttle. He fell forwards, rolling messily with her as the Kodiak tilted in its ascent. When the shuttle doors finally closed, Shepard was half-crushed beneath the weight of her sniper.

He was heavy and armored and pointy as hell, but she knew Garrus was alive because she could feel him panting for breath; the warm heat of his exhalations hit her face. For just an instant, she let herself recognise how lucky she was that he had survived. Shepard let her eyes fall shut for one single, silent moment of intense personal gratitude to the universe for that fact.

Then she snapped her eyes open again and got on with the job.

"Vakarian. Get your spiky ass back on your feet before you poke a hole in me," she muttered somewhere close by his ear. Garrus gave a choked-off laugh and complied, levering himself up and off her.

"Sorry Commander," he muttered, reaching out a hand to pull her to her feet. "Are you hurt?"

She was breathing. That was good enough given the circumstances. "I'll live – but that won't matter a damn if we don't get the Normandy out of here in the next minute." Shepard turned anxious eyes towards the cockpit. "Miranda – hurry!"

The Kodiak ripped across the void, sliding down sharp inclines and careening along narrow margins as Miranda pointed its nose straight for the Normandy's shuttle bay. Shepard's heart was pounding in her throat as she caught sight of the colossal Collector vessel dwarfing her sleek Normandy. It was still a dark, silent shadow pressed against the stars but even as she watched, lights started to flicker on across its ancient, malevolent bulk.

Adrenaline and terror were fighting for control over her as the Kodiak slammed wildly into the shuttle bay. Shepard took the terror and shoved it down, forging the adrenaline into a weapon. She let it take away her exhaustion and fuel the frantic race to the cockpit and Joker. Her pilot was already wrestling the Normandy out of the Collector ship's wake when she made it up there. A hasty glance over her shoulder as she reached Joker showed Garrus wasn't far behind.

Stomach twisting anxiously, Shepard clutched at the back of Joker's seat and watched the Collector ship's main weapon grow brighter and brighter. It lanced across the darkness, cutting through the void directly in front of them and Joker yanked back hard on the controls. The Normandy bucked and writhed under his touch, and Shepard felt the ghost-touch of could-have-been fire and death. It was just like before. _Just like before_.

Sudden movement in her peripheral vision shattered the horrific, growing sense of déjà vu. Garrus edged up beside her, a presence that hadn't been there last time. He looked as grim as she'd ever seen him, meeting her eyes with worry burning bright in them. The sight of him doused her growing fear, reminding her that this didn't have to end the same way as her last encounter with a Collector ship.

_Those bastards aren't taking another Normandy. Not today._

She didn't know if she was promising Garrus, or herself, or the Collectors. Shepard opened her mouth to tell him to fire up the Thanix, when the Normandy suddenly slipped into FTL, the stars turning to bright white streaks. Gasping in surprise, she stared numbly at the forward screens.

"Not again, Shepard. They're not getting her again."

It was Joker's voice, falling into the sudden silence. Frail as a paperclip, fierce as a krogan. The Commander looked down at her angry, terrified pilot, and patted his shoulder gently.

"You're damn right they're not. Good work, Joker. You just saved all our asses."

Garrus stepped closer, mandibles twitching uneasily. "Just like old times."

"Not quite. I'd say it's time to call up the Illusive Man and find out what the _fuck_ he was thinking, sending us in there," Shepard suggested, hearing the brittle chill in her voice and not particularly giving a damn. She was exhausted. Every single cell in her body was screaming for rest. Her armor was scorched and covered with grime and gore, and underneath it, she was sore and stiff and hurting. But her rage was white-hot and burning from the inside.

Garrus dropped his hand heavily onto her shoulder. Shepard found herself spun around, staring up at the turian in his battered armor in blank surprise.

"Shepard." Vakarian slid his hand down to curl around her left arm. "You need to see Chakwas."

She exhaled sharply. "Garrus, I'm fine. What I need to do right now is get some answers out of that son of a bitch."

"You're angry, I get that. I am too. And you're right, we deserve answers," Garrus agreed softly. There was an intensity in his eyes that she had trouble looking away from. "But do you really think talking to him right now is a good idea? He'll still be there in an hour. You've got time to go get cleaned up, and check in with the Doc."

As much as she wanted nothing more than to haul off and rip the bastard a new one, Shepard knew that when her temper was up, she could be reckless and unpredictable. But the situation hadn't changed. They still needed the Illusive Man's help.

Garrus was making too much damn sense. Damn it, she hated when he did that.

She shook her head wearily and let it go for now. Her gaze flicked over him pointedly. "Fine. But take your own advice, buddy," she suggested and he nodded once, releasing her arm.

"Damn, I'm glad you're back with us, Garrus. You're the only one she lets tell her what to do," Joker muttered as she left the cockpit.

Shepard figured the smart choice right now was to ignore that and follow Garrus' advice.

And _then_ go yell at the Illusive Man.

* * *

"That went well," Tali remarked ironically.

The debriefing with her crew had been more turbulent than Shepard had expected, once the Illusive Man dropped his twin bombshells on them: the destination of the Omega 4 Relay and the location of a derelict Reaper. Shepard watched Jacob and Miranda storm out of the briefing room, each heading in different directions. In the absence of their cutting arguments, the room was both quieter and bigger; as if the two stubborn personalities had taken up much more room than their bodies could occupy.

Vakarian coughed into the silence. "They _did_ just work out their boss led them into a trap," the turian pointed out. "That sort of thing tends to put people in a bad mood."

The Commander grimaced. "Tell me about it," she agreed and glanced up. Both of her dextro crew were watching her, Tali's helmet tilted curiously and Garrus with an expectant expression. With a sigh, she shook her head. "I don't have any answers either. The Illusive Man led us into a trap and that's something I can't forgive or work around. He crossed a line. I'm not sure I'm prepared to risk this ship and our crew on another derelict ship mission from that bastard."

The quarian sighed heavily behind her face plate. "I hate to say it, but that bosh'tet _is_ creative. I don't think he'd try the same story twice."

_That's about the only argument I have in favor of this,_ Shepard thought unhappily. She slanted her gaze sidelong towards Vakarian, who had been uncharacteristically silent earlier. "You didn't weigh in yet, big guy. What's your take on it? You think we should head for the derelict Reaper straight up, or do you want to scope it out first?"

The turian leaned back on one hip, crossing his arms. His expression had fallen into thoughtful, almost serious lines and she waited with patient curiosity. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure we have much choice. Assuming this ship is for real, and there actually _is_ a Reaper IFF on board..."

"A big assumption, all things considered."

Garrus nodded in rueful acknowledgement. "Once we get it, our next stop will be the Omega 4 Relay. Now that we know where that goes... I hate to say it, but I don't think we're ready yet."

This was exactly why she valued having the opinions of intelligent, professional crew at times like this. Shepard crossed her arms and levelled a questioning look at him.

"We have a lot of talented people here, Shepard, but most of our new recruits are still working out how to function in a team." Vakarian shot her a pointed look. "A Justicar who's spent nearly a thousand years working alone, and a professional assassin, for example. Not to mention, Grunt is..."

"Yeah," she finished for him ruefully. "The Doc took a look at him and can't find anything wrong. Medically, I mean. She suggested we take him to Tuchanka to get checked out by his own people."

Tali shifted anxiously. "I think that's probably a good idea, Shepard. Nobody wants a rogue krogan on the Normandy."

"And then there's Massani," Garrus continued. "He's a solid shooter and we could use another one of those. We don't have any idea what's going to be waiting for us, but I don't think there's any doubt this is going to end up in a fire fight."

Shepard gathered herself, and nodded slowly. He had a point, a damn good one. But the memory of the Collector ship, and all those countless tubes - empty, waiting - was imprinted on the back of her eyelids, flashing at her every time she closed her eyes. Shepard turned to face the table, curling her hands to grip at the edge of it and studying the both of them over its width. "Our time frame is pretty tight here. How quickly do you think we can get our people up to speed?"

"Cerberus keeps throwing all those odd jobs at us," Tali pointed out thoughtfully. "Why not take advantage of them?"

Garrus started to chuckle. "Use them as a training ground? Not a bad idea. We can cycle through the new crew, scope out their strengths and work out the best way to use them in the field."

They were sneaky bastards, the pair of them, but using Cerberus assignments as training grounds for her new crew made too much sense. She felt a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she nodded agreement. "I like it. It will buy us some time to get more intel on this Reaper ship. We can't take too long... Based on EDI's report, we're expecting another colony to be hit fairly soon."

Tali shifted slightly. "Shepard, I think we have more time than we expected."

Both she and Garrus turned sharply towards the quarian, Shepard leaning in over the table. "What do you mean, Tali?"

The quarian began washing her gloved hands, a sure sign of nerves. "We know they're after human bodies for some reason, that's why they've been attacking the colonies," Tali began. Her voice was pitched higher than normal, and her words tumbled out quickly. "But they're after you too, Shepard. That Reaper, Harbinger... the one you faced on Horizon, you said it was on that Collector ship today too. That can't be a coincidence. It's behind all of this. The Collector ship wasn't a trap for the Normandy, it was for _you_."

It made her blink. The sound of Harbinger calling her name was a recurring nightmare, but Shepard had assumed the Reaper was focussing on her as the leader of the Normandy. She glanced over at Vakarian, expecting to see him looking as sceptical as she felt, but to her alarm, he appeared to be agreeing with Tali.

The Commander shook her head firmly. "That doesn't make any sense. What the hell would a Reaper care about one human?"

"Who can understand why the Reapers do anything?" Vakarian challenged. "I couldn't be sure on Horizon, but their tactics today were clear. They laid a trap and fed the bait to you through Cerberus."

She must have been looking as dubious as she felt, because he moved in closer, leaning over the table towards her.

"Shepard," he murmured, and there was something about the low pitch to his voice, the suddenly strong flanging quality in his voice, that surprised her. Garrus sounded almost affectionate. "You've never been _just some human_. You're the lynch pin holding this whole thing together. You were the one that kept driving us after Saren and Sovereign. You're the one Cerberus spent billions of credits to bring back from the dead. You're the one who stopped them at Horizon. I can guarantee you... if there's anything the Reapers fear in this whole damn galaxy, it's Commander Shepard."

It damn near blew her away. Not just the idea of it, but the way he was looking at her when he said it. Fierce, proud, terrified. Garrus took her breath away with the certainty of his words, and the too-visible anxiety they caused him.

"I remember having some help in all of that," Shepard answered slowly, glancing between her two crew.

"Shepard," Tali chastised. "Without you, none of this would have happened. There's a reason Cerberus brought you back."

_This is ridiculous._

Vakarian smirked over the table at her. "If you won't accept that it's _you_ they're after, you can't deny they're interested in the Normandy."

"I'll give you that," she agreed with a faint smile. "They've tried to lure us into two traps so far." The idea was taking root in her mind, sparking possibilities in the part of her brain that processed tactics. "Fine, then. That's our edge." She could feel the smile widening, turning sharp-edged and feral.

_If the enemy gives you an advantage, you take it._

"You want to use the Normandy as bait," Tali guessed sharply.

Even Garrus looked surprised, his mandibles tilting sharply downwards as he watched her in alarm. Shepard met his eyes firmly.

"Our time frame is limited, and we only have one weakness to play them on. You're damn straight I'll use the Normandy as bait. We need to be visible, but unpredictable enough to keep ahead of them. We're going to do this our way from now on. I'm sick of dancing to somebody else's tune."

"I can work out a schedule, something to give us maximum transit time with the most efficient program to work through the highest priority Cerberus assignments," Tali volunteered helpfully.

"I would be more than happy to assist you, Tali'Zorah," EDI piped up.

The quarian jumped, the way she always did when the AI spoke to her directly. For a moment, judging from the tension in her thin shoulders, Shepard thought she might refuse. Then, with a sigh, Tali nodded. "I'd appreciate the... assistance," she replied drily.

Shepard nodded at her encouragingly. "Good. We need to keep the hook baited as long as we can, keep the bastards away from the colonies. Get on it, Tali."

With a quick nod, the quarian headed out, throwing an unreadable glance in the direction of EDI's module by the door. The AI's cerulean image cut off, and Shepard and Vakarian were alone. Or as alone as they got anywhere on the Normandy that was monitored by Cerberus bugs.

She could feel his eyes on her, as he circled the table to move to her side.

"Tough day," Garrus remarked quietly.

The characteristic understatement made her snort. Shepard exhaled on a sigh and tilted her head up to meet his gaze. He still looked concerned, behind the delicate flash of the visor. "Tell me the truth, big guy. Am I crazy?"

She heard him laugh; a low, flanging sound of sardonic amusement.

"Of course you are, Shepard. It's one of my favourite things about you."

It made her chuckle softly. "You know, from day one, everyone's been telling me I must be crazy to be working with Cerberus. At first, it seemed like my only option. But now... I'm a Spectre again. The Alliance reinstated me. I've got Hackett riding my ass about filing reports. But I'm still wearing this damn Cerberus logo."

The Commander tilted her head up slowly, and met his questioning gaze. There was no condemnation there, although she personally hated the self-doubt inherent in her comment. Garrus watched her calmly.

"You sound like you wish you'd stuck with the Alliance," he observed.

Shepard shook her head. "No. Well, maybe. I don't know." It wasn't like her to be this indecisive, but the _wrongness_ of working with Cerberus had come to a head today. She peered up at Vakarian, this man who had impossibly, unpredictably, become her best friend and realized there was nobody else she could ever have admitted this to. "Garrus, do you ever regret leaving C-Sec or the turian military?"

"Not for a minute," Garrus assured her without a moment's hesitation. "When it comes down to it, Shepard, I don't think I'm a very good turian. When a good turian hears a bad order, he follows it. He might complain, but he knows his place. I just don't see the point in staying quiet and polite." He looked down at her pointedly. "Not when the galaxy is at stake."

And there it was. That bitch of a truth that had driven her to this impasse. The Illusive Man was a lying, manipulative bastard, but he was winning the race when it came to potential allies. The Alliance and the Council might have been the good and moral choice for allies, but Shepard wasn't in this to win any kind of ethical brownie points. She was in it to save the fucking galaxy, and even after today, Cerberus was her best chance of getting that done.

Shepard sighed, nodding in acknowledgment. "You're right. And Cerberus can deliver the goods. We just have to play this smarter. I'm not sending my team into another trap."

His visor caught the overhead light as Garrus leaned in towards her, dropping his hand gently onto her shoulder. "I'll see if I have any contacts out in the Hawking Eta sector who can get us some more intel on this derelict ship. Don't worry," he assured her before she could interject. "I won't put anyone else at risk. I know what I'm doing."

The three-fingered turian hand squeezed her shoulder lightly, and she watched his mandibles shift into what Shepard now recognised as his smile. Garrus wasn't usually a touchy-feely kind of guy, so Shepard let herself enjoy the moment. She could have lost him today, along with everything else. There was time to take a moment and appreciate how lucky she was.

With a smile, Shepard nodded. "Of course you do. I'll try to pin down Hackett, see if the Alliance has heard anything. We can compare notes once we get anything back. Deal?"

"Deal," Garrus drawled back.

He turned to leave and her gaze followed out of habit. She told herself sternly that it was only to confirm that he was moving smoothly and without visible sign of injuries, to reassure herself that he _had_ been to see Dr Chakwas.

She absolutely wasn't checking out his ass.

Definitely not.

* * *

Shepard was reviewing the files Hackett had guardedly agreed to share with her, when she was interrupted by a buzz at her cabin door. Glancing up in surprise, the Commander locked down the Alliance intel and stood to see who was at her hatch.

Miranda Lawson was the last person she expected to walk through that door. Shepard's eyebrows lifted in surprise as she stepped back to silently invite the woman inside.

"Sorry to interrupt, Commander," Miranda greeted tersely, flicking her gaze momentarily across the cabin before snapping back onto Shepard.

"Don't worry about it. How's the leg?" Shepard asked, noting the lack of a limp as Miranda paced restlessly in front of the fish tank.

Miranda gave a casual shrug. "Doctor Chakwas realigned the fibula, it's fine now."

Leaning a hip against the corner of her desk, Shepard crossed her arms and studied the other woman expectantly. "You're not here for small talk. What's up, Miranda?"

Miranda knew damn well that this cabin wasn't monitored by Cerberus bugs. If she'd come up here to see Shepard, it wasn't because she wanted to keep this conversation private from the crew. It was because she wanted to keep it private from _Cerberus_. That was unusual, and unexpected enough, to have Shepard's immediate attention.

Lawson took a deep breath. "What happened today, on the Collector ship... Shepard, I want it to be clear between us. I had no idea that vessel wasn't as abandoned as Cerberus intel reported it to be. I'm your primary link to Cerberus and it was my responsibility to verify the information."

Whatever she'd expected, it wasn't that. Commander Shepard lifted a hand to interrupt. "I never doubted that, Miranda. You're too much of a survivor to have gone on the mission if you knew of the danger in advance."

Miranda hesitated, a rueful smile tugging briefly at her lips. "I can't argue that logic. But it's more than just today." The younger woman was visibly nervous, pacing edgily along the length of the fish tank. "I've always agreed with Cerberus goals. Humanity came late to the galactic community and we _need_ to establish a position of strength within it or we'll end up as powerless as the krogan, without a voice or any control over our destiny. But the Collectors and the Reapers threaten our very survival. This mission is more important than establishing a dominant position for humanity. It's why I agreed to head up the Lazarus Project, and why I'm here now."

"The Illusive Man has made it clear he's prepared to risk this crew, this ship and our mission in order to achieve his own objectives," the Commander pointed out.

Miranda nodded easily. "But his goal is still the same: to eradicate the threat of the Collectors and ultimately the Reapers."

"Miranda, this stopped being about the future of humanity the minute our first colony was attacked. We're both here to ensure humanity's survival. What happens after that is out of my hands, and I'm happy to let things stand that way," Shepard reminded her.

She'd expected Miranda to hesitate, to argue. Miranda argued with everything, out of habit. So Shepard was surprised when the other woman looked her right in the eye, and all that fierce intelligence and irrevocable determination was narrowed in to focus on the Commander.

"I want humanity to survive, Shepard, and I don't trust anyone but you to make that happen. I am concerned that the Illusive Man's judgement has become... clouded," the Cerberus woman admitted. "Our focus needs to be on stopping the Collectors. That's what I came here to tell you. I'm with you. Whatever you need."

Watching her steadily, Shepard realized that today's events had rattled Miranda more than she'd realised. This wasn't an outright abandonment of Cerberus, but it was clear that Lawson had decided to take her own path; a path that only marginally followed Cerberus goals. The Commander nodded slowly.

"What I _need_ is better intel. We walked into that ship today because the Illusive Man led us there like blind cattle," Shepard told her calmly. "You were his eyes, Miranda. It's time to turn them back on him. I need to know how Cerberus learned about this derelict Reaper before I make a move on it."

She'd surprised the other woman, at least a little. Shepard watched Miranda think for a moment, her eyes narrowing in that intense way she had when focussing on a puzzle or difficult task. "Cerberus isn't organised like your Alliance, Commander. We operate in cells, and each unit typically has no idea what anyone else is doing, and can't identify any operatives outside their own cell. The only person who has eyes on everything is the Illusive Man."

Leaning forward, Shepard met her gaze intently. "You're a fast learner, Miranda, and I don't think you trust Cerberus as much as you made out. You knew about the Gernsback. You have your fingers in more pies than you let on."

After a moment's hesitation, Lawson nodded in acknowledgment. "I've been involved in more Cerberus projects than Lazarus, and I like to keep track of my former cell mates. I can start there, and expand. But Shepard... he's better than me. I don't know if I can keep this hidden from him."

Commander Shepard smirked. "He's not a god, Miranda, no matter how much he likes to pretend he is. He's a man and therefore fallible."

"Talk like that is practically heresy in Cerberus," Lawson remarked, her tone threaded with irony. She met Shepard's eyes momentarily and nodded in agreement.

"I'm not Cerberus, Miranda. I have confidence in you. Anything you can find can only help."

Miranda made her way towards the door, and Shepard was satisfied to see the tension that had been visible before was gone. Operative Lawson had cleared her conscience, it seemed.

At the door, however, Miranda hesitated. "Shepard. There's something else."

When the woman hesitated, seemingly unable to meet the Commander's eyes, Shepard became curious. "Yes?"

"As you know, Cerberus expected that I would be your executive officer on the Normandy. When you made it clear Officer Vakarian was your second, I had my doubts." Miranda looked almost apologetic. "He's a superior combatant, but I didn't believe that he had any leadership potential. Over the last few weeks, I've seen that I was wrong on that score. I want you to know, Commander... I believe Garrus was the right choice for that role. I wouldn't have been able to integrate with the crew as well as he has."

Shepard blinked in surprise. "I've known him longer than you, so I knew that he'd pull it together. Garrus has exceptional potential in many areas."

"I won't argue that. Not anymore," Miranda reassured her. With a hinted smile, Lawson dipped her head in farewell. "Good night, Commander."

* * *

After another few hours of reviewing reports from the Hawking Eta system, Shepard was still too wound up for sleep. Not that it was unusual for her to suffer insomnia after a bad mission. She'd been a soldier long enough to know that the easiest way to handle it was to just drive on until her body demanded sleep.

The Normandy was eerily quiet as she ghosted through it, encountering not a single soul. Alliance ships tended to designate the 'night shift' according to the manning of the mess hall, and the Normandy was no exception. Gardner – janitor, cook, and handyman – single-handedly dictated the circadian rhythms of the entire ship. When he closed up shop and flicked off the lights, the Normandy and her crew drifted gently into their own personal night.

As Shepard padded silently across the crew deck, she spotted a sharp edge of light coming from the main battery. Garrus often crashed on a turian-style cot in the back of it, because the human beds in the crew cabins weren't ideal in accommodating his build. She wondered if he'd fallen asleep with the lights on, and diverted in that direction.

It was a surprise when she reached the door and found him standing up at the Thanix cannon control panel.

"Tell me, Vakarian. Is fine-tuning the firing algorithms your version of counting sheep?" Shepard drawled quietly, feeling her mouth quirk into a grin when he spun in surprise.

"Calibrating, Shepard," Garrus corrected her firmly, but with a smile. "It's called calibrating, and I have no idea what a sheep is. Are they valuable?"

It made her laugh, and she stepped further into the main battery, letting the door close quietly behind her. "Never mind, big guy. I meant, can't you sleep either?"

She was close enough now to see the signs of weariness in him and get her own answer. She caught the low slant of his mandibles, and the roll of his shoulders as he straightened; the gesture meant he was tense or in pain. She'd seen him do it frequently in combat, releasing tension in his shoulders between fire fights. He looked tired, as tired as she felt, and she could read the signs of exhaustion on his face as easily as she could on a fellow human. Funny, she couldn't really remember when he'd stopped looking 'alien' and started looking... familiar.

The turian gave a shrug, turning away from the terminal to grant her his full attention. "Not really. Still a little worked up from the fight, I suppose. Too much to think about."

Shepard took a seat on the crate that he kept against the far wall, the one she knew held his weapons. "I had a visit from Miranda before. Looks like the Illusive Man pushed even her too far this time. She's agreed to use Cerberus sources to verify this derelict Reaper story."

That seemed to ease some of the tension in him at least; Shepard was pleased to see him exhale in relief, his shoulders easing back into a more comfortable position. "Good to hear. We're going to need her backing us completely on this one. I'm not surprised she came over, Shepard," Garrus told her, watching her with an expression that she thought might have been pride. "I've never met anyone who can inspire loyalty like you can."

Thinking back on everything she'd learned about his team on Omega, Shepard had some private doubts about that. But even after facing down Sidonis, Garrus remained touchy on the topic of Omega. One day, she'd make him realize what an exceptional thing he'd achieved on that godforsaken hole.

"Sooner or later we're going to have to jump blind through that Omega-4 Relay, and we're going to need everyone fully committed to this mission if we want to survive it," Shepard said honestly. "If any of us had hesitated, even for a moment, we wouldn't have made it off the Collector ship today."

Vakarian nodded slowly in agreement. "Miranda is good in a fire fight, I'll give her that. I never thought I'd trust a Cerberus agent to watch my back – or yours."

Something about the way he said it made Shepard pause, her throat tightening a little. "We've pulled together a pretty crazy little crew for this mission, haven't we big guy?"

"A galaxy-class thief, a thousand year old Justicar, a half-crazed biotic, a tank-bred krogan, a dying assassin, a salarian that scares the hell out of _me_, two Cerberus agents, a quarian and _us_?" The turian's mandibles quirked in amusement. "I'm surprised the Collectors haven't already turned tail and run."

Leaning back on one palm, Shepard grinned. "I never thought I'd end up doing anything like this, you know. Leading a group of aliens and criminals through a relay to the galactic core to take out the damn _Protheans_. Hell, not even N7 training covers this. I don't have a clue how to prepare this crew for what we're going to face."

"You did pretty well last time around," Garrus reassured her with a low chuckle. "Of course, I don't think we had time to question what the hell we were doing once we hit Ilos. We were through that relay and onto the Citadel before we had time to think about it."

That was true. Shepard remembered the frantic moments once they'd realized that the entire Citadel was nothing more than a trap. She remembered looking from Tali to Garrus and seeing their fierce determination staring back at her. None of them had thought twice about going through.

The Commander tilted her head curiously towards him. "Tell me, Vakarian. How do turian crews get ready for high-risk missions?"

"With violence, usually," Garrus answered easily, smirking at her surprised expression. "Turian ships have more operational discipline than your Alliance, but fewer personal restrictions. Our commanders run us tight, and they know we need to blow off steam. Turian ships have training rooms for exercise, combat sims, even full-contact sparring. Whatever lets people work off stress."

Personally, Shepard figured she'd probably fit right in on a turian ship, if that was true. But the Commander part of her brain never took a break, and it was hardcoded by Alliance protocols and military practices. "You mean turian ships have crewmen fighting each other before a mission?" she clarified dubiously.

"It's supervised, of course. Nobody's going to risk an injury that interferes with the mission. And it's a good way to settle grudges amicably." Garrus paused, leaning back on one hip and grinning in a way she could only describe as nostalgic. It caught her interest immediately, making her sit up and lean forward. "I remember right before one mission, we were going to hit a batarian pirate squad. Very risky. This recon scout and I had been at each other's throats... nerves, mostly. She suggested we settle it in the right."

He was eyeing her sideways, something almost wicked in his expression. Shepard felt herself smirking back. "I assume you took her down gently?"

"Actually, she and I were the top-ranked hand to hand specialists on the ship. I had reach, but she had flexibility. It was... brutal. After nine rounds, the judge called it a draw. There were a lot of unhappy bettors in the training room." Garrus paused, managing to look both uncomfortable and oddly smug at the same time. "We, ah, ended up holding a tiebreaker in her quarters. I had reach, but she had flexibility. More than one way to work off stress, I guess."

He sounded too casual, and Shepard realized that despite all the teasing and banter they threw back and forth at one another, this was somehow more real.

_Did he just tell me a sex story?_

To put it bluntly, she was fascinated. Shepard may have made the decision to approach him and hope for the best, but she'd sure as hell had zero clue on how to go about doing it. Turian sexual behaviour wasn't exactly covered in Alliance training.

_Is that how turians do this?_

Shepard knew all the rules and social conventions when it came to dating humans. With a turian, she was flying blind. Did turians prefer casual sex or relationships? Was there a taboo against sleeping with your commander? She was pretty sure there was one about sleeping with a human. She figured she already had enough marks against her in this idea, and the only thing she had going for her was the strength of their friendship. Shepard was under no illusions that Garrus secretly lusted after short, fringeless, unplated, five-fingered aliens.

"You think I should have tried to sleep with Miranda right at the start? Maybe that would have gotten her on side earlier," the Commander drawled, her tone deliberately as wicked as she could make it. She got a perverse kick out of throwing Garrus for a loop, watching him take a second to process it, and then choke back the sharp laughter.

"Maybe you should stick with Alliance protocols for the humans on your ship."

"And turian protocols for the turians?" Shepard threw back immediately, before she even realized what she was saying. She found herself on her feet and wasn't really sure what she intended her next move to be.

God, she was insane for even thinking about this, but Shepard had sort of built her career out of doing crazy things so maybe it wasn't that unexpected. She knew what she wanted, and now she had an idea how to go about getting it in a way that might - just possibly - pass as acceptable to a turian.

_So grow a quad and do it already,_ she snapped at herself.

Garrus tilted his head at her in that familiar, bird-like way and the slightly confused, expectant expression was just so damn _him_ that she knew the moment was here. She was going to do it. She was going to gamble all of her chips and cross the line.

"You said you were still worked up from the fight today. It sounds like you're carrying some tension," Shepard explained as calmly as she could, with her heart beating in her throat.

And hell, he could see it. He was looking her over with that abstracted focus he always wore when trying to interpret unexpected feedback on his visor. It would be showing him the increased heart rate, elevated temperature - she could feel the heat in her cheeks. He had the data. Would he understand what it meant?

Judging from the expectant, and still slightly confused expression on his face, apparently not. Shepard wanted to laugh at the unexpected sweetness of his naïveté but she was still a bundle of nerves. She could back out. She could –

"Maybe I could help you get rid of it," she heard herself say as she approached him deliberately.

_Oh hell. Or I can just leap right in._

She wasn't any good at this. Shepard had _never_ been any good at this. It had been so much easier when Kaidan came onto her. She hadn't needed to do anything, risk anything.

Garrus was staring at her in blunt confusion.

"I... ah... didn't think you'd feel like sparring, Commander," he said hesitantly.

_Commander._

Her heart started to sink because if this were any other man, the use of her rank would have been a polite rejection. But, Shepard reminded herself quickly, this was Garrus. He was too honest, his rejection would be awkward and babbling, but unmistakeable. And he was still peering at her uncertainly.

So she had to do this. Go all the way. Risk everything. Shepard hovered there for a moment, balancing on the escape route he'd given her, and asked herself, _is it worth it_?

The answer came back, quick and certain.

_Hell, yes_.

Shepard took a deep breath and took another step closer to him. "What if we skipped right to the tie-breaker?" she suggested, as he turned to follow her progress. To hide her nerves, she pressed her hands against the edge of the console he'd been working on, gripping it tightly.

Garrus had been edging back to maintain their usual polite distance but he froze at her suggestion; she saw the effect her lowered voice and altered manner were having on him.

_C'mon, big guy. Don't make me spell it out here._

Shepard watched his gaze dart over her wildly; she could see the flicker of readouts flashing on his visor and knew he was checking her biofeedback. He swallowed hard enough that she saw the movement in his throat and that's when she felt the first surge of victory. Hotter, fiercer than any she'd felt on the battlefield.

So what if he was turian and she was human? He was still a man. With that encouraging sign, Shepard felt her mouth curve into a wicked smile and she dove right in.

"How about we test your reach..."

His precious calibrations beeped and protested under her reckless grip on the console, and _he didn't even blink_. He was staring back at her; fascinated and unsure, but utterly, completely focussed on her. Her smile widened with the sure sense of triumph.

"... and my flexibility?

* * *

**A/N -** I know, I know! I hate cliffhangers normally, but I just couldn't write this scene from only one side... The next chapter should be out in a week or so and will take off from this point. Don't hate me! :)


	15. Chapter 14: And Flexibility

**A/N -** I've said it before and I'll say it again - thank you so very much to everyone who reads, reviews, and favorites this story! The feedback has been so wonderful and positive, you guys are great!

Most of the in-game romance dialogue is present in this chapter, because that dialogue always felt like it belonged early on in their relationship. The remainder of this story will aim to fill in the blanks between those early conversations and the night before the Omega 4 Relay. :)

* * *

Omega had taught Garrus the danger of lying to himself, and he couldn't pretend he didn't know how they'd reached this point. Standing there, staring across the main battery at Shepard, he knew this one was all on him. It didn't matter that Shepard's recent behaviour had been odd enough to attract his curiosity; Vakarian's intense regard for the Commander had bypassed mere friendship quite some time ago, and he damn well knew it.

He'd been testing the boundaries tonight. Garrus had thrown out the story about the scout the way a sniper sets up a wind marker. Testing the air currents, seeing what direction he should be pointing himself in. It had been reckless and a little dangerous, but this had been coming longer than he wanted to admit.

Except, as was typical when Shepard was involved, it had somehow moved faster than he'd expected – and he was completely unprepared for _this._

"I... ah... didn't think you'd feel like sparring, Commander."

She didn't like that. Garrus had seen Shepard face down Saren, the Council, the Illusive Man and Sovereign itself, with shoulders thrown back, chin lifted defiantly and sheer self-confidence radiating from her every pore. The sudden shift in her body language was alarmingly obvious.

_Where are you going with this Shepard?_

Although... Watching the damn near predatory way she moved closer, Garrus wasn't entirely sure he wanted to protest.

"What if we skipped right to the tie-breaker?" she suggested and her voice was so low and strange that it momentarily distracted him from what she was saying. But then his brain caught up to his ears and his throat was suddenly dry as a Palaven desert.

_She's not saying what I think she's saying. I know she's not saying what I think she's saying because I'm not that damn lucky. Except, oh hell, what if she is saying what I think she's saying?_

Garrus' mind was a whirlwind as he fluttered his gaze over her frantically, trying to put this moment into some kind of context. They flirted almost out of habit, but it had never been serious before. This wasn't delicate innuendo or teasing overtone. This was Shepard being about as subtle as a charging krogan.

She was moving closer and all he could do was watch her lean back on the terminal. Her small, dexterous hands rested carelessly on the panels still loaded with half-finished firing algorithms, eliciting beeps and alerts as she destroyed over an hour's work.

He knew he was in trouble when he didn't make even a token objection to that.

"How about we test your reach," she purred and oh hell, it was _exactly_ what he was thinking; her smirk widened triumphantly. "...And my flexibility?"

"Oh!"

His heart was pounding in his chest, ricocheting wildly against his ribcage as he forced air down his lungs in a frantic effort to clear the white haze in his brain.

"I didn't... huh."

_Say something suave. Be charming. Dammit, Vakarian, don't babble!_

"Never knew you had a weakness for men with scars," he managed faintly.

This was too big a risk to gamble on. He sharply broke his gaze from Shepard's, turning away and giving into the nervous energy running along his skin. Under her steady gaze, Garrus paced the length of the main battery, trying to marshal his thoughts into some semblance of order, striving to make sense of the conversation. Struggling to accept that somehow, out of nowhere, she was seriously offering him... _this_.

Objectively, he knew it was insane. Madness. A turian and a human? Sure, he liked her a hell of a lot more than he should, had since before Omega, but how would it even work? She didn't even have a fringe. Except as he glanced over at her quickly, it didn't _feel_ insane. It felt...

It felt like Shepard was offering him every damn thing he'd ever wanted and never dared to let himself hope for. It wasn't a question of whether he was interested; of _course_ he was interested. But now that it came down to it, could he really do this? Risk _everything_?

_In a heartbeat._

The uncertainty solidified into clear decision with such intensity that Garrus froze in his pacing. He couldn't let this slide through his fingers. Maybe it wouldn't work. It probably wouldn't work. But to reject even the _chance_, to not even _try_... He spun back to face her. She was there – his Commander – leaning back against the console and watching him with fierce expectation.

"Well, why the hell not? There's nobody in this galaxy I respect more than you." Maybe it wasn't suave or charming, but it was the most honest thing he'd ever said in his life. Garrus looked her over uncertainly.

He knew her too damn well, and he felt a surge of pride to realize it. He could see straight through her bravado. She was nervous as hell; it was all there in the careful dart of her eyes as she watched him, in the way her teeth caught at the inside of her lip.

Hell. He _knew_ this woman, knew her better than anyone else in the galaxy. She wasn't turian, but she wouldn't be Shepard if she was. Shepard's humanity was part of what made her... well, _her_. She was an alien, small and pale, with soft skin instead of plates; not a cowl or a fringe or a leg spur in sight. But damn if he didn't suddenly look at her and realize - human or not – this felt right to him.

Because she was _Shepard_ and she was everything that made sense in his life.

Garrus took a deep breath and stepped closer. Close enough to catch the uneven intake of breath from her. He didn't have to be human to work that one out. His mandibles shifted into a slow turian smile. Yeah. He could do this.

"If we can figure out a way to make it work," he purred softly, slowly, letting the sub harmonics resonate around her deliberately. "Then... yeah. Definitely."

There was something sinfully wicked about the sharp spike of satisfaction he felt at seeing her eyelashes flicker in response. It was always one-upmanship with them, cheerful competition. She'd started this, or maybe he had with that damned scout story, but Garrus was damn sure she'd challenged him to meet her head on here.

So he didn't disappoint; locking his gaze onto hers, he waited until her smile stretched into a smirk that fairly oozed relief. She reached out a hand, those tiny pale human fingers curling briefly around his forearm. An indrawn breath tangled at the back of his throat as he stared at the point of contact between them.

"You never could resist a challenge," she teased, her gaze flicking over him in sharp, assessing glances.

Garrus managed a low-pitched laugh. "It wouldn't be the first time I've followed you into something completely insane and with a low chance of success."

She flashed a wry grin up at him, letting her hand slide away from his arm and drop back to her side. "We do tend to jump first and ask questions later. But I don't want to push you into anything here. So... do me a favor, big guy? Think about this before you make the call."

Garrus wanted to protest the loss of the contact, but her hesitation made him realize she wasn't as confident and sure as she was acting. That helped, somehow. Knowing he wasn't the only one nervous about walking blind into this paradoxically made him feel much better about it.

"Sleep on it, Garrus," Shepard advised with a playful smile. "I'll stop by tomorrow. Deal?"

_Sleep? After this? _

"Sure, Shepard," he managed to get out, past a throat gone suddenly dry, and watched her as she slid past him and out the door. "Night."

When the door closed behind her, Garrus laid his hands on the edge of the console, and realized they were trembling. Nerves, maybe, or the adrenaline that was still running through his system and making his heart beat triple-time. His record with women had never been brilliant, with all of his encounters triggered by aggressive females or from acting on impulse before he had time to think about it. _Thinking _ about it always seemed to trip him up, but it was very characteristic of Shepard to want him to be sure.

Sure? Garrus knew perfectly well how intense his regard for her was. She'd just given him a green light to take their friendship somewhere he hadn't even allowed himself to think about; like _hell_ was he going to turn it down.

As far as Garrus Vakarian was concerned, tonight had probably been the best night of his life.

* * *

"Look to the right," Doctor Chakwas requested politely, and Garrus obediently turned his head in that direction. He heard the approving hum from the doctor as she inspected the skin grafts that his bandage typically concealed, and took that as a good sign.

Delicate human fingers prodded lightly along the edges of the graft; it was the most sensitive and therefore most painful location but Chakwas was careful and professional in her ministrations and he was inured to the pain by now. His whole damn face hadn't stopped hurting since Omega.

"You're still not taking the painkillers, are you?" the doctor asked with a sigh.

Garrus smirked, the damaged mandible shooting familiar pain along his cheek. "Not when there's a mission on the table. We'll have a few days down time, so I'll take some today. Besides, it's not that bad."

Her delicate, tiny human hand balled up into a fist and pummelled him directly in the sternum with enough force to make him cough in surprise. "Spare me the macho crap, Garrus," Chakwas snapped, but there was a resigned countenance to her expression. "I know better than you do exactly what it did to your nervous system, and how much pain you're in. If you want to be uncomfortable, that's your choice. You can put the bandage back on now. We're done."

The truth was that after damn near overdosing on stims during those last days on Omega, fighting to stay awake and alive, Garrus was reluctant to take any kind of meds beyond the necessary. Physical pain, he could deal with. Pulling the bandage back on and settling it snugly back into place, Garrus reflected that pain reminded him he was still alive, and he could live with that reminder quite happily.

"How's it looking, Doctor?" he asked lightly.

Chakwas made a note on her datapad and flashed him a bland look. "You're healing, the nerves are regrowing – as I'm sure you're aware. You know I can't do anything cosmetic for you here, but I'm confident that in another six weeks, the graft will have covered the cybernetics and bonded with your natural skin."

_Assuming we're all still alive in six weeks._

Garrus shook off the pessimistic thought and nodded. "I'm grateful for all of your help, Doctor Chakwas. After the healing is complete... if I went to a doctor on Palaven, would they be able to..." He paused, unsure exactly what he wanted to ask.

The doctor was regarding him with sympathy and a hint of curiosity. "A turian doctor could help with the worst of the scarring. I know cosmetic surgery is rare in your culture, and turian plates are difficult to work with, but I'm confident that much of the damage could be concealed. Has it been more painful? That will ease in time."

He couldn't blame Chakwas for being confused by his sudden request. Garrus had been dismissive of any cosmetic repairs in the past, mostly because he hadn't been expecting to survive the Collector base. But now, if he did survive...

_Will the scars bother Shepard? She only knows what I looked like before._

It _hadn't_ mattered to him, before. But Shepard's visit and unexpected offer, had gotten him thinking along lines that had started to bother him. He was a good sniper, a damn fine soldier, and a brilliant tactician. Garrus could admit that much with blunt honesty and no false modesty. But attractive? Not so much these days... maybe before.

Shaking his head and summoning up his most charming smile for the good doctor, Vakarian slid off the edge of the examination table. "Thanks Doc. That'll be fine," he reassured her and made for the door.

He could feel Chakwas watching him as he left, and wouldn't be at all surprised if she sent him the name of a good turian surgeon in the next day or so. Doctor Chakwas was nothing if not thorough in her care of her patients. Whether he'd give the surgeon a call would probably depend on Shepard, and how serious she was in her suggestion. He'd be foolish to make any assumptions until he saw her again.

* * *

Dodging a charging krogan was always a difficult task, but the close confines of the Normandy shuttle bay / training room made it even trickier. Garrus flashed back quickly on a long-ago spar with Wrex, and an accidental but fortuitous grapple approach that brought his old friend to a halt. Acting on instinct, Vakarian reached for Grunt in an echo of that move, pivoting on his hip to redirect the krogan's momentum where _he_ wanted it to go.

He'd only managed it once or twice with Wrex, and Garrus was pleased – for the sake of his reputation, if nothing else – that it worked on the younger krogan this time. He panted in satisfaction, watching Grunt crash headlong into the decking, probably leaving behind more than a few dents in the process.

"Not bad, kid, but you still need to work on your focus," he drawled cheerfully.

Grunt pulled himself to his feet slowly, his unusual blue eyes flashing with anger.

Prudently, Garrus took a few steps back to put some more room between them, and waited for the next approach. Their spars were getting more and more brutal each day, but the turian had seen how much Grunt needed this outlet to control his growing rage. They needed to get him to Tuchanka; daily sparring was a stopgap measure at best.

"You'll pay for that, turian," Grunt snarled, shifting his weight forward in preparation for the leap that would signal them back into combat. Garrus tensed in anticipation.

"Not today, he won't," snapped a third voice; a voice familiar enough to both their combat instincts to freeze turian and krogan into instant stillness.

Garrus turned his head slowly towards the Commander as she strode towards the far end of the shuttle bay which had been designated a training area by the crew. He kept a cautious eye on the restless krogan, having learnt too well not to look away once Grunt's blood was up.

"Shepard," he greeted, feeling his pulse trip into overdrive as he watched her approach. He hadn't seen her since their conversation in the main battery and he didn't have a clue where they really stood right now, but damn it was good to see her again. Even if she didn't look particularly happy with his current activity.

"I thought you two had stopped these practice sessions," Shepard commented, glancing between them.

Vakarian relaxed slightly. "It's under control, Shepard. Grunt needs to blow off some steam, and we always stop at first blood."

He saw her eyes flash sharply over his face, and her lips compressed into a straight, unhappy line. When she lifted a hand to his brow plates, Garrus had to fight his instincts to keep from flinching in surprise.

"I'd say today's session is over then," Commander Shepard stated firmly, pulling her hand back enough for him to see the blue dots of his blood speckling it. Garrus studied the light trace of blood in surprise; he vaguely remembered a knock to the head but hadn't realized he'd hit hard enough to break the skin. Of course, Grunt would have seen it immediately.

When he glanced over, the krogan shifted guiltily and wouldn't meet his eyes.

"It's barely bleeding at all," Grunt complained.

Shepard was frowning. "Ease down, Grunt. Once we take on supplies, we're heading straight for Tuchanka. You can last that long without beating up my best sniper," the Commander advised calmly. "No more training sessions, and that's on _my_ order. Go get some rest. We'll be there before you know it."

_We weren't scheduled to hit Tuchanka until after Omega. What happened?_

Garrus threw a puzzled look in her direction, but her focus was on the wayward krogan. He watched her stare him down, as she'd stared Wrex down more than once; pitting the indomitable force of her own willpower against the strength and ferocity of an angry krogan. It was more than most humans would dare. In less time than he expected, the tank-born krogan grunted and dropped his gaze.

"We'd better be," Grunt muttered and shoved his way between them, heading for the door.

Shepard didn't relax, even after the shuttle bay door clanged to an echoing close behind the restless krogan. Instead, she was putting out even stronger signs of agitation, clearly visible under his visors enhanced vision. It was enough that Garrus took a concerned step closer.

"Shepard, it really was under control," Garrus promised in his most reassuring voice.

To his surprise, she chuckled quietly. "As much as a fight with a krogan can be? I was watching for a while before I stepped in. You've got some moves on you, Vakarian. I'll give you that much."

"So why the change in plans?" he asked in confusion.

"He's getting worse," Shepard replied flatly. "If you have to take that kind of beating every day just to stop him from getting out of hand, I'm not waiting any longer. Once we resupply, Tuchanka is our priority."

Gauging her mood carefully, Garrus concluded that she wasn't angry. She'd seen a problem and she'd fixed it, but having made the call, she was ready to move on. It was so very Shepard that it made him smirk, crossing his arms as he studied her.

"I'm no delicate flower," Vakarian reminded her in a lazy drawl. "I can take more damage than anyone on this ship, except for maybe Jack... and she's too volatile for this."

Shepard's mouth twitched the way it did when she was trying not to smile. "I'm not pitting those two against each other. I'd like to keep my ship in one piece. But that doesn't mean you have to volunteer yourself as punching bag."

He shrugged easily. "Shepard... I don't mind. Grunt needs the adrenaline release to keep himself under control."

For the first time in a long time, he couldn't read her expression. It was still amused, but her eyes were tight with tension and the thin worry lines were present between her eyebrows. Garrus felt his throat tighten nervously when she moved slightly closer to him.

"Maybe it's not just _Grunt_ who needs to blow off steam," Shepard said quietly, watching him with a level of intensity that she normally only reserved for combat zones.

It was suddenly last night all over again. His felt his heart clench in his chest and couldn't work out if it was nerves or desperate, excited hope. She didn't sound like she was joking. She looked as serious and intent as she had in the main battery.

Mandibles pressed nervously against his cheeks, Garrus eyed her carefully. "So your offer is still on the table, then?"

"Actually, that's why I came down here looking for you." Shepard also looked uncharacteristically hesitant, shifting her weight to her back foot. "To see if you'd had time to think it over."

Think it over? Hell, he hadn't gotten more than an hour or two of sleep last night, because he couldn't _stop_ thinking about it. Garrus cleared his throat, and tried to pull his brain together. All she'd offered last night was what amounted to casual sex. There was no way he was going to turn that down, but he couldn't let himself read anything more into it.

"Yeah. I've been thinking about what we talked about... Blowing off steam, easing tension. I've never considered cross-species intercourse. And damn, saying it that way doesn't help," he complained. "Now I feel dirty and clinical."

Shepard snickered. "This is new to me too, big guy," she reminded him with a rueful grin.

He thought about Alenko, and then flashed back to the conversation with Jacob in this very shuttle bay a few weeks back. Human men seemed to find Shepard particularly attractive. She could find a partner from her own species without any difficulty.

_So why me?_ he wondered wistfully. If all she wanted was something recreational and easy...

"_Are_ we crazy to even be thinking about this?" he asked her softly. "I'm not..." _Not human. _Garrus sighed. "Look, Shepard. I know you can find something a little... closer to home."

_I don't even know what your species _like_ during sex. What if I do something that freaks you out? What if it's not even possible? What if this ruins everything?_

Her eyes flashed. "I don't want something closer to home," Shepard informed him bluntly. She edged in closer; close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body. Close enough to see each of the individual eyelashes that framed her intense gaze. "I want _you_. I want someone I can trust."

_Trust._

There it was. The truth of their friendship, the single underpinning core of why she mattered so damn much to him. Garrus had family, he'd had friends. But he had never _trusted_ any of them the way he did Shepard, because they had never been what Shepard was to him. She had given him a chance to take down Saren when C-Sec denied him, she'd helped find Dr Saleon. Shepard had come when he'd thought his life was about to end in some trash-heap apartment on Omega, surrounded by the corpses of his team. She'd been there, the warm voice of reason in his ear, talking him down from a very bad idea as he watched Sidonis in his scope.

Shepard was the one person in the entire damn galaxy that he trusted unconditionally, and here she was, standing before him, saying she felt the same in return.

_Trust_, he could work with. Garrus felt a surge of sudden confidence that maybe this _could_ work.

"I... can do _that_. I'll find some music... and do some research to figure out how this thing should work. It'll either be a night to treasure, or a horrible interspecies awkwardness thing," he promised her enthusiastically.

_Wait, that's not exactly encouraging. _

Garrus tried again. "In which case, fighting the Collectors will be a welcome distraction. So, you know, a win either way."

She moved in closer and his vision hazed out at the edges again. Her pale, naked human hand reached up to touch his arm, higher than was her custom, curling delicate fingers around his upper arm. Garrus swallowed and met her eyes.

"You know, Garrus, if you're not comfortable with this, it's okay," she said softly. Shepard's fingers squeezed lightly around his arm, and he felt it even through the armor. "Like I said before... I'm not trying to pressure you."

"Shepard, you're about the only friend I've got left in his screwed-up galaxy," he told her with brutal honesty. "I'm not going to pretend I've got a fetish for humans... but this isn't about that. This is about us. You don't ever have to worry about making me uncomfortable. Nervous, yes... but never uncomfortable."

She leaned back slightly, pulling her hand back and giving him an assessing once-over. Of course, it was like Shepard to make him the offer of a lifetime, and fret that she was pushing him into something. But he was relieved to see her nod in acceptance, taking him at his word now just as she did in combat. If he said he was fine, he was fine.

Garrus felt his half-formed worries about ruining their friendship melt away. This was them – Shepard and Vakarian. They'd trusted one another with their lives, and that trust had been earned a thousand times over. Their friendship was too damn solid, too damn real, to be damaged by a little... interspecies experimentation.

Maybe Shepard had reached the same conclusion, because she grinned up at him cheerfully, her eyes dancing. "So when should I book the room?" she teased.

_Now? Now sounds good to me._

Garrus strove for self control and common sense and all those reasonable things that told him rushing into this was a bad idea. Even now, the mission came first – for both of them. Neither of them would risk that. Besides, at this very moment in time, he wouldn't have a clue what to do.

"I'd wait, if you're okay with it. Disrupt the crew as little as possible... and take that last chance to find some calm just before the storm." He summoned up the most charismatic smirk he could manage, in hopes it would cover his nervousness. "You know me. I always like to savour the last shot before popping the heat sink."

When her pleased smile stretched wider into that familiar smirk, Vakarian cringed belatedly.

"Wait. That metaphor just went somewhere horrible."

The smirk grew into laughter. "For what it's worth, I agree with you. I don't know how this will work, but I figure if we take our time, we can work it out. After all, we took out Sovereign. Surely a little interspecies logistics won't be too much for us?"

There was something almost wistful in her expression. It was so unlike Shepard, that he reached out blindly, grabbing gently for her hand. Garrus discovered quickly that holding hands with a human was not like holding hands with a turian. She had too many fingers, or he had not enough. Either way, there was a moment of awkwardness before Shepard wrapped all of her fingers around his end digit.

Instantly he closed his hand around hers, his other two fingers wrapping protectively over her hand, and holding it tightly. Garrus swallowed a sudden lump in his throat and looked from their joined hands to her eyes.

"I think we can figure it out," he drawled in agreement, despite the fact that human romance was a complete blank to him. Garrus knew he had a _lot_ of self-educating to do on the topic. Maybe Joker could help him out? He sure as hell couldn't ask Jacob about this.

Shepard grinned up at him. "You know, Vakarian, if I had more time right now, I'd challenge you to a spar so I can see just how impressive your _reach_ really is," she teased him cheerfully. "But I'm meeting Miranda upstairs in five to go over our supply needs."

For a single instant, his mind fixed on the image of that long-ago spar with the scout, with Shepard superimposed on the scene. He stared blankly into her merciless grin, watching it grow wider. Exhaling sharply, Garrus realized his own impulses didn't give a damn that he had no clue about how humans worked.

"You won't be disappointed," he replied, struggling to keep his voice level. If she were turian, the sub-harmonics would be a dead giveaway as to how on edge he was just then. If they kept this up, he would end up babbling again and just embarrass himself. Pulling his brain out of his libido, Garrus changed the topic deliberately. "Where's the resupply station?"

"Some place called Invictus. Mostly a turian colony, I hear," Shepard told him, the grin still lingering in the corners of her mouth.

The name rang a few bells, and helped distract him from the mental images plaguing him. "I remember there being a mining consortium there. If we can pick up enough eezo, we could look into that thrusters mod Samara recommended for the Normandy's propulsion drive," Garrus suggested.

With business on the table, Shepard's teasing grin turned serious and she nodded encouragingly. "Good idea. Look into it, will you? Jacob says we're running low across the board, and he's got a few weapons mod projects that he can't start on until we restock."

"I'll take care of it," Vakarian assured her easily. His heart beat was returning to something close to normal, now that they were safely talking shop, and he was relieved they could make the switch back so easily.

"I'll catch you later, big guy."

He watched her go, because he couldn't _not_. Garrus studied her strange, lithe human body in a way that he had never allowed himself to before. Whatever was happening between them, he figured it gave him leeway to do a little curious looking. In doing so, he realized something very quickly.

Shepard lacked the fine-boned hips and sweeping fringe that had typically attracted him to females before. She was human-soft, unplated and alien, but as he watched the fascinating way her body moved, he couldn't deny it.

Vakarian _liked_ what he saw.


	16. Chapter 15: The Craving in my Bones

**A/N** - I hope you all enjoy! Once again, many thanks to the awesome Stormflite for being my beta. I made a few slight changes after her last proofread, so any errors are undoubtedly my fault :)

Thanks to everyone who reads, favorites, follows and especially reviews! I LOVE reviews! :D 

* * *

Shepard hefted the crate in her arms, balancing its weight easily as she stepped back into the Kodiak. The shuttle's cool confines were a welcome relief after the dry, arid heat of the turian colony, Invictus. The planet had seemed to leech the moisture from her as soon as she'd stepped into it. Shepard had quickly concluded that it could be called a 'garden world' by scientific classification only.

"Need any help with that?" Miranda called from the front of the shuttle.

"This is the last of it." Shepard dropped the box carefully to the ground, shoving it under a nearby seat and latching it into place to avoid any movement during transit. Behind her, she heard Tali moving into the shuttle as well, equally loaded down with supplies from their recent trip to the colony's main trading square. The poor quarian had been horrified by the Commander's willingness to pay full price and her impatience with any kind of bargaining, but Shepard was more concerned with getting them off planet and back onto the Normandy than in saving Cerberus a few credits.

With Grunt's agitation growing daily, she was anxious to get him to Tuchanka as soon as possible. Mordin's discreet visit to her cabin two nights previous, with a polite but concerned request to investigate the disappearance of his former assistant had only increased her motivation to get this resupply trip over with quickly. While Shepard and Tali restocked on the necessities, Miranda had made her rendezvous with the Cerberus supply depot on Invictus without any difficulty, and had managed to beat them back to the shuttle. _They were only waiting on Garrus_, Shepard realized as she watched Tali stow the last of the supplies securely into the Kodiak.

And it wasn't like him to be late.

On the heels of that thought, Shepard lifted a hand to the radio clipped behind her ear. "Vakarian, what's the hold up?"

Garrus had volunteered to play stevedore and collect the supplies of raw minerals, including the valuable eezo they needed. The mining consortium on Invictus maintained a secure warehouse within the settlement's commercial district, and although the colony itself was a bit rough and ready in its approach to legalities, the consortium was legit. Vakarian shouldn't have had any difficulties securing their supply of eezo.

But the long wait for a reply amped up her tension levels enough to draw sharp glances from the other two women.

"_Sorry, Shepard_." Garrus' voice sounded in her ear, and she knew immediately something was wrong. The flanging quality was more pronounced, a sure sign of tension. "_I have a situation here_."

"What's going on?"

Clued in by her sharp question, Miranda and Tali both linked into the signal. In her peripheral vision, she caught the concerned frown from the Cerberus agent and the uncertain tilt of Tali's head.

"_Ran across some old friends who recognized me from Omega. Blue Suns_."

In the background, Shepard caught a sharp, stuttering burst of noise which was instantly recognisable as gunfire. All three women moved in immediate reaction. Checking the Carnifex at her hip, the Commander gave a sharp nod at Miranda and hastened out of the shuttle, with Tali hard on her heels. She didn't have to look back to know Miranda was prepping the Kodiak for departure, and would be ready to evac them from Vakarian's location if needed.

"We're on our way," Shepard promised, activating her omni-tool. It flashed a map of the settlement up to her, tracking a path to Garrus' radio signal. She and Tali broke into a run. "Just hang tight."

"_Thought I could handle them but these bastards have me pinned_," Vakarian apologised grimly.

The frustration was readily apparent in the turian's voice. As she and Tali raced through the colony's broad walkways and sun-dappled streets, Shepard tried to figure out how anyone could have identified her sniper as Archangel. Had they missed someone on Omega? Shepard had been more concerned with getting Garrus to the Normandy's med-bay than taking out any lingering mercs, and not even the ruthless Cerberus agents had wasted time confirming all the bodies they passed were corpses.

Yeah. It was possible. And Invictus was a known meeting place for independent contractors, and even some of the larger merc organisations. But for someone to recognize Vakarian and get enough support to pin the highly skilled sniper in place... That told her one thing.

Archangel still had a bounty on his head.

Shepard swore under her breath as she and Tali approached the area Garrus was locked down in. Bounties on her crew were a real problem, given their activities in the Terminus Systems, but it was a problem that would wait for another day.

The sound of gunfire grew louder as they got closer. The deserted streets were a relief. Locals tended to get some distance once a fire fight broke out, but Shepard was grateful that what passed for local law enforcement on Invictus hadn't yet shown up to complicate things. The long boulevard they were on wasn't all that far from the mining consortium's warehouse. Shepard concluded that Garrus must have been identified before he got to the warehouse, giving the Suns time to stage an ambush before he emerged. Hampered by a sluggish carrier loaded down with eezo, Vakarian would have had difficulty evading them.

_The stubborn bastard wouldn't think to leave the supplies, either_, Shepard reflected ruefully, but with faint pride. You could always rely on Garrus Vakarian to get the job done.

Her combat HUD identified thermal readings that registered as probable weapons, identifying the heat signatures as potential combatants. Tali pulled her shotgun off the back clip, cradling it expertly in her arms as she and the Commander approached a pedestrian side-street cautiously. Shepard could hear the almost non-stop clamor of Vindicator battle rifles, and the high-pitched whine of at least one light SMG. The return fire she identified as Vakarian's assault rifle was haphazard, and had her gritting her teeth at the inconsistency.

Gliding carefully up to the edge of cover provided by the corner building, Shepard risked a careful glance down the long length of the street. In the half second she allowed herself before pulling back, the Commander spotted the carrier loaded with their valuable minerals, and the nearby doorway that her sniper had apparently taken refuge in. A semi-circle of batarians and one turian, all in the familiar Blue Suns armor, surrounded it.

Bastards had him pinned down good.

"Garrus, we're approaching your position from the south. I make five targets," Shepard murmured softly into the radio.

Vakarian gave a sharp laugh in response. "_Seven. I've got two more up high, third story of that warehouse on the east corridor,"_ he replied.

_Damn it._

They were smart, and they clearly knew their quarry when they planned this ambush. Anyone who'd been there on Omega knew what Archangel could do with a single rifle and a good angle. Shepard nodded to Tali and the two of them pulled back from the edge of the side road, drawing back into the promenade to get a better line on the Blue Suns snipers.

"Keep the main group focused on you, Garrus. We'll deal with those two."

"_You got it, Shepard_."

She heard the sharp, rhythmic pulse of Vakarian's rifle increase as he returned fire blindly, keeping the mercs' fire directed at his position. Shepard had no concerns for his safety just now; he was a good enough shot with that targeting system in his visor to keep them from advancing on his position for a few minutes more, even if he couldn't risk exposing himself long enough to confirm kill shots.

"Shepard, I have a clear shot at one of them," Tali advised, her helmeted face tilted skyward, the shotgun trained steadily on a third-story window of the overhanging warehouse.

Grunting, the Commander veered right, sunlight lancing across her vision as she moved to get a clear line of sight for the other Suns sniper. It was tight, and not ideal, but Shepard didn't want to delay any longer.

"It'll do. Take 'em out, Tali," she instructed firmly, squeezing the trigger on her own rifle.

Tali's target went dark on the HUD immediately, while Shepard's rapid-fire burst apparently only winged hers. But he went down, and no further gunfire emerged from above, so that was good enough for now. She didn't plan on sticking around.

Shepard exchanged a look with her quarian engineer, and the two moved in unison to approach the loose grouping of mercenaries pinning down their friend.

From that point, things were almost textbook. She and Tali moved in from one end, while Garrus – no longer pinned by the snipers from above – emerged to open fire from the other. With long familiarity, they kept their angles precise to avoid friendly fire, catching the Blue Suns in the middle.

Clean and surgical.

In under a minute, there was silence again and five Blue Suns dead on the ground.

Emerging fully from his cover, Garrus met her gaze briefly. Shepard summoned up a relieved smile for him. "I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?"

Vakarian tilted his head, mandibles twitching apologetically. "What can I say, Shepard... everybody wants a piece of me. Never knew I was so popular."

Tali snorted behind her faceplate. "If you were anymore popular, Vakarian, you'd be a smear on the sidewalk."

The truth of that drew the smile from Shepard's face. The thought of anyone on her crew with a price on their head worried her. The fact that it was Garrus... worried her more.

"We'll sort this problem out later," she decided firmly. "For now, let's just get this stuff back to the Kodiak and get the hell out of here."

* * *

Once Invictus was an hour behind them, and the dirt and grime and sweat had been washed from her body, Shepard found her mood much improved. They were on their way to Tuchanka, the Normandy was fully restocked, and nobody had been hurt. All in all, that counted as a good day in Shepard's book.

"Hey Commander, I hear you had a little excitement on your shopping trip," Joker greeted her with a grin, as she rounded the corner to the mess hall. "What happened – didn't they like your endorsements as much as the guys on the Citadel did?"

Shepard returned his grin easily as she dropped into the seat opposite him. At this time of shift, the galley was only partly filled, which explained the pilot's presence. Joker preferred to avoid crowds, where an accidental bump or knock could inadvertently fracture or break a bone.

"It wasn't my fault this time," she said. "Tali was the one bickering over prices. I just provided the heavy labor for lifting and carrying." Shepard glanced up and spotted Gardner approaching her with a plate full of something that smelled simply _amazing._ She took it from him with a grateful smile. Once she'd arranged decent supplies, and he'd had to stop finding ways to make food rations edible, Gardner had proven to be an absolute treasure in the galley. Judging from comments Tali and Garrus had made, his skills had even transferred to dextro-based cooking as well.

"Hah! Well, eat up, Commander," Joker advised, pausing in between mouthfuls of his own meal. "We should hit Tuchanka in about four hours... just in time for lunch at the Lagrange Point. I don't know about you, but I don't want to know what krogans consider a tasty snack."

"It may interest you to know, Mr Moreau, that krogan diets are not entirely dissimilar to human," EDI commented, her voice emanating from a speaker overhead. "In point of fact, many krogans may boast a healthier diet than your own, given their preference for fresh meat and your fondness for pre-packaged refreshments overloaded with artificial preservatives. In case you weren't aware, the beef you are currently consuming was entirely vat grown," the AI explained helpfully.

Joker stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth, giving first it, and then Shepard a plaintive look.

"Thanks for the fun facts, EDI," Shepard said, shaking her head.

"I'm happy to help, Commander."

The pilot defiantly swallowed his forkful of beef, while Shepard followed suit and tackled her own meal. The mess hall was quiet, with only the sound of cutlery scraping and the muted conversation of a pair of off-duty navigators at the other table. Shepard was more than happy to enjoy the temporary peace, while the back of her mind mulled over the upcoming challenges. Once they hit Tuchanka, she'd have to find a doctor to deal with Grunt on a planet known more for soldiers than healers, and track down yet another of Mordin's missing assistants.

Movement to her right drew her attention, and Shepard glanced over to spy the lean, familiar form of her turian sniper approaching, a plate of dextro food in hand.

"Commander, Joker," Garrus greeted, as he slid into the seat beside Shepard.

Shepard looked up with a smile, only to blink in surprise when she realized he was clad in the dark skin suit he wore underneath his armor. He must have taken a meal break after cleaning his armor from the fire fight on Invictus. Garrus was a stickler on some points, and proper care and maintenance of weapons and armor was one of them. Of course, to Shepard's certain knowledge, he had never before taken his meal outside the main battery.

She shook her head to clear the momentary distraction. "Good to see you out and about. No bumps or bruises from our latest adventure?"

Garrus pried open a small container of sauce, and she caught a bitterly astringent smell. A bit like mint and coffee mixed together. "Please, Shepard. There were only seven of them," Vakarian reminded her with a lazy grin. "So Joker, how long till we hit Tuchanka?"

"About four hours, give or take," Joker answered.

The Commander glanced curiously at her pilot to see if he found anything unusual about Garrus joining them. Joker didn't seem interested in anything but his food, so she shook her head again and managed a sly sidelong glance to admire the sleek lines of her best sniper, now clearly visible without the armor.

The damn turian glanced up from his plate and winked at her.

_Dammit. One little bit of flirting, and I lose my head. Get a grip, Commander. _

Shepard cleared her throat and deliberately turned her attention to her pilot. "Did you manage to get a hold of Wrex?"

The chances that Wrex would be monitoring the old frequencies were slim, but Shepard had asked Joker to try anyway, hoping to give him a heads up on the Grunt situation. Or maybe get a suggestion from him on who might be able to help the young krogan. However, she wasn't surprised when Joker grimaced and shook his head.

"No dice. Nobody let me talk to him. Turns out he's some kind of big shot there now. I did manage to get hold of someone else in their Clan Urdnot, who agreed to pass the word back," Joker offered in rueful consolation. "Wrex should be waiting close to the landing site they gave me. Sorry, Commander... I didn't want to throw your name about on an open signal."

Joker eyed her warily from under the edge of his cap, apparently not entirely sure he'd made the right call. Shepard shot him a quick smile of approval and watched the pilot relax.

"It can wait till we get there," the Commander agreed. "I have to admit, I have a lot of trouble picturing Wrex as a politician."

"_Krogan_ politics," Garrus pointed out from her right. "I'm pretty sure that all boils down to who has the biggest quad. You probably taught him everything he needed to know for his new career."

She coughed around the mouthful she'd just swallowed. "Not sure I have the plating for a krogan head butt. I have a feeling that's a big part of krogan diplomacy," Shepard drawled back, grinning over at him.

"Mr Moreau," EDI interrupted, her modulated tones almost apologetic at the intrusion. "We are approaching the Imir relay."

Across from them, Joker snorted as he pushed back his now-empty plate. "Well, that's me out," he announced cheerfully, climbing to his feet. The pilot adjusted the low hang of his cap, and gave a nod to Shepard as Garrus lifted a hand in farewell.

Shepard watched his off-kilter amble as he made his way around the corner of the mess hall, heading for the elevator. She was fully aware of the attentive stillness of the turian beside her, and slanted a quick glance in his direction.

"So does this mean our bet's off?" Garrus asked in a low voice, the one eye not occluded by the visor sparkling with humour.

It took her a moment. Shepard flashed back to a half-forgotten conversation held while floating outside the Normandy's hull. "If I remember correctly, the terms of that bet included new armor for you if I managed to take down a krogan with the..." She paused, and grinned suddenly. "... _Diplomatic_ approach."

Vakarian laughed; a low-pitched, flanging sound that Shepard now admitted sent shivers down the length of her spine. "And a new rifle for you if you can't," he reminded her. "Really, Shepard. You should have more faith in yourself."

Pushing her empty plate away, Shepard spun the chair to face him with a grin. "Don't worry, big guy. Our bet's still on."

It was, after all, as good a way as any to justify giving him the new heavy turian armor she'd just picked up on Invictus. Watching him traipse about everyday in the broken, buckled set he'd had since Omega was a far too vivid reminder of how close she'd come to losing him. If she'd been even a few hours later... Forcing the thought aside, the Commander made a mental note to wear her hardiest helmet when they hit Tuchanka.

"Glad to hear it," he drawled back. Popping a sweet-smelling bunch of stalks into his mouth, Garrus chewed thoughtfully. "It'll be good to see Wrex again," he admitted.

"Think he missed us?"

Vakarian's uninjured mandible flattened against his cheek in a half grin. "I think he missed the trouble we get into."

"Officer Vakarian," EDI spoke up. "We are receiving a real time message for you, from Omega."

Shepard raised her eyebrows in surprise, but Garrus didn't seem alarmed. He grabbed another bite from his plate and got to his feet smoothly. "Thanks EDI, I was expecting that." Garrus slanted a quick look over at her, and extended his hand carefully to her in invitation. "I was chasing up some intel on the mercs who jumped me on Invictus. Want to listen in?"

He seemed shyly hesitant, but the hand he held out was steady. Charmed by the gesture, Shepard curled her much smaller hand around his and let her friend pull her to her feet. "EDI, pipe it through to the main battery," she instructed. Garrus squeezed her hand lightly before dropping it, and they headed away from the mess hall.

"I know it won't change anything," Garrus admitted to her as the doors closed behind them, "but I'd like to know who put the price on my head, and for how much."

"Given how cautious they were on Invictus, I'd say it's a fairly respectable amount." Shepard vetoed her usual seat, instead sticking to his side and leaning a hip against his work station. As he called up the com line, the Commander met his gaze briefly and winked. "Worth every credit, too."

Garrus' hands stumbled tellingly as he opened up the connection, and Shepard had to bite back a grin as an unfamiliar, flanged voice filled the room.

"_Hello_?"

"It's me, Tallen," Garrus answered quickly, curling his hands around the edge of the console. Shepard noted that he didn't use a name, and wondered if this other turian knew him as Vakarian or only as Archangel.

"_I figured I'd hear from you sooner or later_," Tallen's voice crackled over the line. "_Your name's been thrown around here lately. You should have just laid low. Everyone thought you were dead_."

Shepard crossed her arms, seeing her concern echoed in Garrus' grimace.

"I just had a bunch of Suns try to take me out. Who else is gunning for me this time? I haven't even been on Omega to cause trouble for weeks," Vakarian complained.

"_Hah! Word is, you've taken the war to the Suns directly. Hitting their supply depots, taking out bases and shutting down their operation on the Citadel. That's always been your problem... You just don't know when to quit_."

Startled, Shepard looked up to see Garrus blinking in surprise. It was true, they had been running across Blue Suns bases fairly regularly out here, but neither of them had considered the implications of the merc gang figuring out the turian sniper on her team was Archangel. If they had, given Archangel's bold tactics on Omega, it was almost inevitable they'd conclude he was going after them deliberately. Shepard could have kicked herself, but who would have thought the Suns would make that connection? Turians weren't exactly uncommon out in the Terminus Systems.

"Guess all our good deeds out here are coming back to bite us in the ass," she muttered, keeping her voice low enough that hopefully it wouldn't be audible over the line.

Garrus sighed heavily. "Is it just the Suns after my head this time?"

There was a pause. "_Isn't that enough? They're keeping it in house for now, but do yourself a favor. Go find some quiet little patch of nowhere, and keep a low profile for a few years_."

Shepard let herself exhale slowly, rolling the tension out of her shoulders carefully. Blue Suns, they could deal with. If the merc group had put a serious open bounty up against Garrus, they'd have had some major issues.

"I'll do my best," Vakarian muttered, staring fixedly ahead. "Thanks Tallen. I owe you one."

"_Anytime, buddy_."

The background static dissolved into silence, and Shepard clearly heard the shallow sigh from the turian beside her. "It had to be Harkin." His hands curled tighter around the edge of the console, and he wouldn't meet her eyes. "I knew I should have killed that son of a bitch when I had the chance."

It was naive of them, perhaps, to assume Harkin wouldn't have made the connection between Garrus Vakarian and Archangel. Sidonis wasn't likely to have shared details, but Harkin had brains - of a sort.

"Hey," Shepard interjected sharply, reaching up to grip his forearm. "That was my call. You questioning my decision?"

The challenge was unexpected enough to shatter his anger, and startled blue eyes met hers immediately. "Of course not, Shepard. But you can't tell me this won't make things harder out here. It sure as hell did today."

She acknowledged that with a nod. "Nothing we can't work around," she said, then shot him a smirk. "Or you can stay on board the Normandy during resupply runs."

Garrus' expression twisted into a grimace of distaste. "You'll have a fight on your hands if you try to make that an order, Commander."

Shepard's lips twitched against a smile. "Ease down, big guy. I won't bench you." She kept her tone deliberately light, even as she ran the scenarios in her head. Cerberus couldn't help them on this score; it was their missions that so often sent Shepard and her team up against the Suns. But there were other powers operating out in the Terminus Systems. She squeezed Garrus' arm lightly, and decided it couldn't hurt to pay Aria a visit sometime soon.

"We have enough people gunning for us already," Vakarian pointed out unhappily. "This isn't about our mission. They're coming after me, because I pissed them off."

Shepard edged closer, nudging his ankle lightly with her boot. "Hey, that's part of the job. If you aren't pissing somebody off, you're doing something wrong."

Tilting his head, Garrus studied her wryly. "Guess I'm pretty damn good at my job."

"The best," she agreed. The warmth of his arm under the thin material was a distraction, but one that Shepard was willing to work with. Until she could take action to deal with this problem, her best bet was to plan around it and drive on. "Let it go, Vakarian," she urged quietly. She ran an encouraging hand up the length of his arm, keeping her attention steady on him.

"Letting things go isn't exactly my strong point," the turian replied ironically, but despite the tone, she could see his attention shifting. Garrus moved fractionally, as he also became aware of how close they were standing. She watched his expression shift from resigned to alert, and smirked.

"C'mon Garrus," the Commander drawled, curling her fingers around his forearm and squeezing lightly in rebuke. "You really think I'm going to let some two-bit merc gang take out my best sniper?"

A mandible twitched as he edged closer, looming over her. "I always knew you just wanted me for my gun."

The conversation was familiar; the banter had marked their relationship almost since the beginning. But the physical closeness was new. Shepard drew in a deep breath and the musky, familiar scent of him was all around her.

"You flirting with me, Vakarian?" she asked, tilting her head back to meet his gaze straight on. She took a deliberate step closer, removing the remaining distance between them.

Feeling his hands settle hesitantly against her hips, she had to smile at the sweetness of his uncertainty. "Maybe," he admitted. "How am I doing?"

Her hand lifted almost of her own volition, pressing lightly against the injured mandible. Shepard felt it twitch in surprise under her touch, heard the sudden hitched breath he took, and her smile widened. "Not bad," she murmured. "Why don't you tell me some more about your gun?"

Chuckling softly, Garrus seemed to grow more confident with her boldness. His hands tightened against her hips, tugging lightly to pull her closer. Shepard had thought he looked smaller out of his bulky armor, but she'd never been this close to him... not like this. Her legs were pressed against his, his arms framed her, his body loomed over her. The alienness of him wrapped around her; the strange scent of his skin, the rough texture of the damaged mandible under her gentle fingers, the size of him. It was a new and different manifestation of the man who'd been her best friend for years, and Shepard found herself fascinated by it all.

His bright blue eyes shifted over her face intently. "You know, when I was in the turian military, I specialized in sniper rifles for a reason," Garrus remarked casually.

Feeling his mandible shift under her hand as he smirked, Shepard traced the edge of it with a delicate fingertip. "Let me guess... because it gives you improved reach in a gunfight?" she asked.

"Glad to see you've been paying attention," he purred. "Anytime you want some pointers, you know where to find me."

Shepard glanced sideways to the pristine, newly-cleaned rifle propped up over his weapons locker. The man looked after the things he cared about. Even if she'd known nothing else about Garrus Vakarian, that would have been enough to reassure her that this decision to get closer to him was a good one.

"I know how to use one of those, you know," she pointed out, shifting in his arms. "I just like getting in close for the kill." Garrus edged closer and she found herself unexpectedly pressed up flush against him, her hips sliding against the unfamiliar bones of the long, sleek turian body. Shepard's brain hazed out at the edges and her hand froze where it lay against his cheek.

His breath came out in a shaky exhalation, hands clenching avidly over her hips.

_Ah hell... This is... Ease off, Shepard. Or you'll end up jumping him here in the damned main battery._

It was intense, for just some casual flirting and the most innocent of touches. Damned if her heart wasn't pounding against her ribs; when she dropped her hand down to press against his chest, she could feel the rapid thud of his heart beating against it and knew he was in a similar state. Shepard drew in a sharp, deep breath and met his eyes, finding her own amused surprise echoed there. No, this wasn't what she'd expected. It hadn't been like this with Kaidan, or... anyone.

"Shepard, I -"

She managed a rueful smile, and pulled back carefully. "Slowly. Right. I know." Exhaling, she shook her head and took a moment to get her head back on straight. She dragged her brain back onto the topic of sniper rifles, ignoring any distracting metaphorical implications. "It's not a bad idea, though... If you think you've got something to teach me, Vakarian, let's do it."

Garrus closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. When he opened them again, he was smiling. "If I show you all my secrets, you won't need to keep me around anymore."

It made her laugh, curling her hand into a fist and punching lightly against his chest. "Sure I will. I can't watch my own ass out there, can I?"

"Happy to be of service, Commander," Vakarian drawled, and she was pleased to see no more signs of the earlier tension in him. It seemed she'd managed to distract him out of his tendency to brood. As long as she could keep her own hormones under control, it looked like Shepard had found a sure-fire way to cheer him up.

"We can talk about _that_ later too," she retorted with a grin. Then she sighed. "For now, I'd better go catch Mordin before we hit Tuchanka. I need some more details on this assistant he wants us to look for."

With clear reluctance, Garrus let his hands fall free of her waist, and Shepard took a careful step back, putting some distance between them. It wasn't what she wanted, but she wasn't going to screw this up by pushing too far, too fast. Vakarian was too important to her to scare him off.

"Always on duty," the turian murmured softly, his mandibles shifted into a faint smile. "I'll meet you in the shuttle bay in a few hours."

She hesitated a moment longer, feeling his gaze steady on hers. Watching the display on his visor shift and fluctuate, Shepard knew she was being studied as closely and minutely as anything in a combat zone had been. She'd have been uncomfortable if it had been anyone else watching her, but Garrus... Garrus looked at her the same way he looked at his gun; satisfied, admiring and just a little bit smug.

Shepard turned to hit the control panel, the doors immediately opening onto the walkway leading to the mess hall. As she left the main battery, and the watchful turian, the Commander kept an ear out for the sound of the doors closing behind her... and didn't hear it.

She couldn't hold back the grin as she walked away, knowing he was watching her from behind the precise scope of the visor, the entire length of the walkway.


	17. Chapter 16: Wilderness Lost

Crammed into the back of an armored truck, Garrus watched the wild Tuchankan landscape roll past the dust-streaked window. At dusk, it was a dismal view and after a while he looked away; peering past the bulk of two Urdnot warriors, he could see Shepard perched beside Grunt on the other side of the truck. The Commander was still flushed and bright-eyed, looking almost as high from their triumphant mission as the young krogan beside her. She caught him peeking at her and shot him a wide, unrepentant grin.

_I guess taking down a thresher maw isn't exactly an everyday occurrence, even for Shepard. _

Holding back a smirk, Garrus turned back to watch the ruined city grow quickly larger as they approached Wrex's camp. The convoy of trucks rolled through the creaking framework of the ruins, pulling up to a halt not far from where they'd first met Wrex. It was little more than a relatively flat patch of rubble, braced by the crumbling bones of old buildings, but it seemed to serve as the central courtyard for Wrex's clan.

As the vehicle's engine rumbled into silence, Garrus swung out behind Shepard. He saw her tense up as she hit the ground and his hand had gripped the edge of his rifle in reaction even before he spotted the half-dozen heavily armed krogan waiting nearby. They were the same krogan who'd been with Wrex earlier, and Garrus figured them for senior clan members; what he didn't know was their intentions. When Shepard remained alert but didn't draw, he forced his hand away from the rifle uneasily.

"What's going on?" Grunt demanded warily.

"Ease down, Shepard," rumbled a familiar voice, and the handful of krogan parted to let Wrex through. "Just a welcoming committee. Your tank born passed the test. The kid is Clan Urdnot now... if he wants to be."

The other Urdnot krogan didn't look entirely pleased at Grunt's success, but none of them moved to challenge Wrex. Garrus slanted a glance towards Shepard and found her studying their adolescent krogan thoughtfully.

"What happens if I do? Another ritual?" Grunt demanded scornfully. Behind the bravado, Garrus could read the young krogan's uncertainty, as well as his cautious interest.

"Nobody has killed a thresher maw since I had my go on the grounds," Wrex admitted, coming to a halt before them. "The clan will celebrate. The shaman has some words, but you've earned the night off."

With a pleased twitch of his mandibles, Garrus watched his young friend straighten proudly. Grunt had fought damn hard to earn his clan rights today. Beside him, Commander Shepard relaxed back onto her heels and smiled.

"Congratulations, Grunt," she said easily. "Go enjoy the party. In fact, Garrus and I might join you. Not like we can do much until tomorrow anyway."

As happy as he was for his friend, the idea of spending a night surrounded by a clan of partying krogans struck Vakarian as a really bad idea. "Shepard, are you sure about that?" he asked guardedly, glancing briefly towards the older clan members. There was no way of knowing whether Uvenk had any allies within the compound, or even if there were other krogans who'd object to offworlder involvement in krogan customs. Wrex had been clear enough that he was still establishing ties with neighbouring clans.

Grunt's face darkened. "Shepard is my krantt. If I stay, she stays," he announced flatly.

"Of course Shepard stays," Wrex agreed. "Wouldn't be a party without her. Don't worry, Vakarian. My people will watch over her."

"Shepard's human," he reminded them pointedly. "The radiation down here won't do her any favors." It was true. While a night on Tuchanka wouldn't harm him, Shepard didn't have his protective plating and he didn't think she'd want to sleep in her armor. But the truth was he didn't like the idea of giving anyone a further chance to take a shot at them.

Shepard intervened in the incipient squabble, laying a soothing hand on his forearm and squeezing lightly. "Relax, Garrus. I'll sleep in the Kodiak. You too." Glancing over at the waiting krogans, she grimaced apologetically. "Sorry Wrex, but your people have no love for turians, and I don't want any '_accidents_' during the night."

Wrex shrugged off the implication. "Works for me. I'll send some of my best warriors to watch the shuttle tonight. C'mon, kid. Time to meet your new Clan."

Still uneasy, Garrus watched the two krogan move off to the waiting Urdnot warriors. "Shepard, you do realize that krogan celebrations can get a little... rowdy, right?" he asked. First there was the drinking, then the brawling. It had been bad enough when he worked C-Sec and could call in back up; trying to separate and restrain even a half dozen drunken krogans was enough of a challenge. Wrex had hundreds of them camped out here.

"It's not every day we get to be heroes, you know," Shepard pointed out.

"I heard that the anniversary of the Battle of the Citadel is coming up soon. Couldn't we go to that instead?"

Chuckling, she nudged him lightly with her shoulder. "Tonight's for Grunt. Wrex is right, he deserves it. He's the one that took the kill shot on that thing."

Garrus sighed in defeat. Talking Shepard out of something had never proven successful in the past. "Just promise me you won't drink the ryncol."

"Don't spoil all my fun, Vakarian."

* * *

Not surprisingly, Garrus found his prediction about krogan parties to be entirely accurate. Within an hour, a massive bonfire had been lit at the high point of the clearing and the numbers hit triple digits. What concerned him the most was that guests from other clans had joined in the festivities as well. Still uneasy after Uvenk's attack, Vakarian pinned himself firmly to Shepard's side. Mostly, they kept out of the way as 'friendly' arguments amongst the guests grew into random spouts of open brawling. When one erupted nearby, Shepard's pistol appeared in her hand instantly and Garrus realized she was perhaps even more on edge than he was.

Glancing from the weapon gripped tightly at her side, to the squabbling krogan a few feet away, Vakarian tilted his mandibles against the urge to smirk. "Didn't you say we were guests of honor?" he asked ironically, even as he let his own hand fall away from his sidearm.

Shepard flashed him a wry grin. Placing a hand firmly on his arm, she directed them away from the squabbling trio. "Old habits die hard," she admitted.

Following her with a low chuckle, Garrus scoped out their immediate surroundings. He was relieved to spot Grunt's familiar outline moving through the crowd. The young krogan was headed for the central bonfire, with the shaman at his side. "I don't think we have to wait much longer," he reassured her, gesturing towards their squad mate.

The Commander's relieved sigh was echoed with an anticipatory shout from other krogans who'd also noticed the two. As the celebrants pressed in closer, Garrus planted himself firmly behind Shepard's right shoulder and kept one hand close to his rifle. He knew he was looming aggressively, but he didn't care; his sharp gaze kept even the Urdnot krogan at a distance. It wasn't just Shepard he was worried about either. Turians weren't exactly welcome on Tuchanka these days.

"Poor kid looks like he might bolt," Shepard observed, watching Grunt shift about in a familiar, nervous fashion as he became the centre of attention.

Garrus considered the excitable mood of the crowd around them. "Hope he doesn't. It could start a riot."

When the shaman paused before the bonfire and raised his hands, the crowd's eager murmur fell into expectant silence. The old krogan spoke in what must have been an obscure local dialect, because there was a distinct lag before Garrus' translator identified it. He saw Shepard's equally puzzled expression fade into comprehension as the software kicked in midway through a sentence.

"...have passed the Rite of Passage, earning the honor of clan and name. Many survive, but it has been years since a thresher maw fell. Your names shall live in glory." The shaman lifted a hand and Grunt immediately dropped down to his knees. "Grunt, you are Urdnot. You may now own property, join the army, and apply to serve under a battlemaster."

"Shepard is my battlemaster," Grunt answered firmly. Garrus saw the ripple of surprise move through the crowd of krogans, and Grunt added defiantly, "she has no match."

_Yeah. You said it, kid.  
_

The shaman glanced in their direction and cleared his throat. "It is understood."

As they watched, the shaman drew forth a stained metal bowl, and dipped a thick finger into it. Grunt remained unmoving at the shaman's feet, which was unusual enough for the restless young krogan. Garrus started to suspect that Wrex had given the kid pointers on how to behave.

The Urdnot shaman slid his finger down over Grunt's brow, leaving a long, thick red streak behind. "We recognise you as blood of our blood, worthy of the honour of our name. We welcome you to our clan, Urdnot Grunt," he announced, and the crowd of krogans roared in welcome.

"Is that... blood?" Shepard hazarded over the rising shouts of the krogans around them.

Garrus triggered the zoom on his visor display and grunted softly. "Looks like. What do you think, krogan or varren?"

She shot him a wry look. "Not sure I want to know."

Garrus shifted closer to her, pressing one hand down lightly against her shoulder as the krogans cheered. The random shouting and yelling began to coalesce into a single word. He strained to make it out - no, not a word. A name.

_"Grunt! Grunt! Grunt! Grunt!"_

"I'd say the little fella found his family," Garrus drawled whimsically, leaning close enough that she could hear him.

To his surprise, Shepard reached a hand up to rest against his own, where it lay against her shoulder. The touch startled him, and for a moment, his attention narrowed down to the brief point of contact. Shepard's bio-feedback was a distant buzz against his visor display, as she squeezed his hand lightly before letting go. By the time Garrus tuned back into what was going on, the shaman was presenting a weapon to Grunt. Some sort of "welcome to the family" gift apparently, and that was it. End of ceremony. Garrus shook his head to clear it, and let Shepard pull him out of the way as the eager Urdnot clan surged forward to greet and welcome their new brother.

"Shepard!" Wrex's voice spilled over the ambient noise and they both turned to spot him approaching.

Shepard grinned. "Wrex."

"I should have known you could turn even a tank bred into a warrior worthy of my clan," he greeted gleefully.

"No objections from the rest of the Clan?" she asked curiously. Garrus had to admit, he was surprised by what their old friend had achieved so far. From what he knew of krogan inter-clan politics, he knew Wrex must be facing significant challenges. Accepting a tank-born would be a contentious decision, even for his own clan.

"Pah. I hardly even had to break any bones to get them to accept him," Wrex dismissed the concern with a smug grin. "They're stubborn bastards. But they're _my_ stubborn bastards."

"And the ones that aren't?" The question came out sharper than Garrus intended, as he flashed back to Uvenk's features distorted in a furious scream, moments before he charged down on Shepard. He narrowed his gaze at Wrex intently. "How many assassination attempts have you had?"

"Too many to count. That's what made the last few years fun." Wrex's grin broadened briefly, before he turned to the Commander. "If you're still hunting salarians, Shepard, one of my scouts heard something you might be interested in. He's over by the south barricade. Name's Ralenk. I told him you might stop by."

Surprise flashed briefly over Shepard's face. Garrus knew she'd been expecting a lengthy search on Tuchanka; he'd agreed that sticking around longer than a week risked drawing Collector attention.

"Go check it out now," he suggested, nudging her shoulder lightly. "I'll bring Wrex up to speed on recent events."

Giving Wrex a farewell slap on the shoulder, Shepard flashed him a quick, grateful smile. "Catch you back at the shuttle, big guy."

He watched her lithe human figure vanish into the shadowed crowd of hulking krogans, and automatically triggered a battlefield program that would track her location. The reassuring pulse flashed at the edge of his vision, and Garrus rocked back on his heels. When he turned back to Wrex, he found his old friend smirking openly.

"So, Vakarian... what the hell happened to your face?"

* * *

By the time Garrus made it back to the Kodiak, he found Shepard already in the cockpit, leaning over the control panel. Hearing him enter, she straightened and turned to greet him.

"Hey, big guy. Did you manage to sweet talk Wrex into joining us?"

His mandibles tilted into a half-embarrassed smile, but he didn't bother to deny that he'd tried. "No. Turns out, he'd rather let rival clan leaders take pot shots at him," Garrus answered ruefully. "How'd it go with the scout?"

He hit the door controls, letting the Kodiak door swing closed and lock into place. In the sudden absence of distant krogan revelry, there was only the quiet hum of the shuttle's life support system. A bare step away, Shepard leaned against the door frame to the cockpit and gave a half-shrug.

"Better than I hoped. It sounds like Mordin's assistant has been taken by the Weyrloc Clan, who seem to have some kind of link to the Blood Pack. I called through to Joker and had him pass the word. Solus will join us at dawn."

Vakarian grimaced as he pulled his rifle free and cast a quick, assessing gaze along it. "Whatever the Blood Pack want with a salarian, it can't be good." Shepard's weapons were already laid out neatly on the row of unlatched seats, and he set his rifle down carefully beside them.

"Probably not. We'll find out tomorrow. You hungry?" the Commander asked, stepping past him and heading for the supply lockers at the back of the shuttle.

Neither of them had eaten since they'd left the Normandy, and in the hours since then they'd battled varren, klixen, enraged krogan _and_ helped Grunt take down a thresher maw. Shepard was already rummaging in a locker which he knew contained both levo and dextro ration bars. Despite knowing how bland and entirely unappetizing they were, Garrus felt his stomach rumble insistently. "I'll take one."

As he stretched out a hand to catch the foil-wrapped bar, Vakarian directed a careful glance over the cramped interior of the Kodiak. Shepard had already latched up most of the rows of chairs against the wall, to leave enough floor space for the sleeping gear. They were lucky the Kodiak was stocked with emergency survival gear, but as he stared over the two thermal sleeping kits stretched across the floor, he realized tonight would be... cosy. Garrus shifted uneasily as he took a bite out of the ration bar. A short, bumpy ride through planetary atmosphere, to or from the Normandy, was one thing. But a night, alone with Shepard, in this tiny shuttle?

"Shepard, are you sure about staying down here tonight? I've seen your cabin, it's got to be more comfortable than this."

She blinked slowly as she chewed and swallowed a mouthful of levo ration bar. "You offering to help me test that theory?"

Garrus felt his face go slack with shock. "What... No, Shepard, I wasn't... I meant..."

Her low-pitched laughter stopped his stuttering denials. "Relax, Vakarian. All I want is one night off. The minute I hit the Normandy again, it'll be reports and maintenance requests, and Chambers wanting to have another catch up in my cabin to discuss crew psych profiles. I'm not even going to tell you how awkward the last one was."

_When was the last time she had a night off?_ he wondered suddenly.

Before she died. It had to be. The Alliance had shipped her out straight after Sovereign's attack, eager to get her away from the media sensation she'd become. Immediately after her resurrection, Cerberus had sent her off on yet another mission to save the galaxy. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Garrus vowed that he'd make sure she got some downtime next time they hit port. For now, a night on Tuchanka would have to do.

"Fine," he replied, keeping his voice deliberately light. "But I expect something a little better than a beaten-up shuttle on a radioactive pile of rubble for our next date."

The tension eased out of her, and Shepard met his gaze with gratitude. "Deal. And next time, I'll make sure I can offer you something better to eat than ration bars."

"In the meantime, I guess this isn't so bad," Garrus remarked, trying for casual. His stomach fluttered nervously, as he approached her slowly. There wasn't much space in the cramped cabin of the shuttle, and her eyes tracked him with interest as he shifted closer.

"That's true," Shepard agreed thoughtfully. "We've had worse. As far as I know, there aren't any geth nearby trying to kill us."

"Or husks, indoctrinated asari, parasitic plants, killer VIs..." If she'd been turian, the sub harmonics in his voice would have given him away. It was ridiculous for him to find the idea of being alone with her in a cramped, dirty, banged up shuttle on the most rundown planet in the galaxy somehow... appealing. Particularly since they were both still wearing armor, sweaty and grimy from the mission, and the Kodiak sure didn't have anything like a shower.

Her mouth quirked in that way he knew was Shepard trying not to laugh. "And as far as I know, the only tank-bred krogan in the neighbourhood is on our side. You're right, this isn't bad at all."

Garrus shifted his gaze over her face. He couldn't offer her a night in a high-class hotel room on the Citadel, not on a vigilantes salary; at this point, he couldn't even offer her a hot shower. But he could do something about the armor.

"Even if he is reeling at the moment. Good thing we don't need him tomorrow, Shepard. Krogan drinking games are pretty extreme." He curled his hand carefully around her upper arm, watching the quick indrawn breath that parted her lips.

"Poor Grunt. I hope Chakwas has something to help him with the hangover," she said, tilting her chin up to watch him intently.

Garrus slid his hand higher along her arm, towards her shoulder. Human armor was a little different to turian, but he found the break between ablative plates and his talon caught on the clasp easily. With one firm tug, the shoulder piece loosened and Shepard made a startled sound.

"You weren't planning on sleeping in this, were you?" Garrus asked, keeping his voice light and hoping like mad that she couldn't hear the nervousness in it.

Her eyes were wide, the central black dots somehow bigger and darker than usual. Slowly, Shepard shook her head.

It was clear permission for him to continue, and Garrus relaxed in relief. He couldn't remember ever doing this before, not even for a turian woman. His encounters had been wild and fast, both partners ripping armor free to get access to the bare plating below. Now he was careful to move slowly, laying each discarded piece neatly on the seats by their weapons.

"How are you feeling, Shepard?" he asked quietly. "You did head butt a krogan earlier today. And I saw you take a few hits from Uvenk's crew." As he spoke, Garrus directed his attention to the unfamiliar buckles and clasps. With the same meticulous precision he used when cleaning his guns, or calibrating the Thanix canon, he removed her armor, piece by careful piece.

Her mouth twitched as she watched him. "Only a few. But I didn't knock myself out, so I guess you won the bet. Good thing I already have a new set of armor waiting for you on the Normandy."

Garrus paused, blinking at her in surprise. "You do?"

"Mmm. I picked some up on Invictus," Shepard admitted. "I'll have Mordin bring it down in the morning and you can give it a trial run tomorrow."

Easing her out of the heavy chest and back armor, he laid the last pieces of ablative plating beside the rest of the dirt and blood splattered armor on the row of chairs. Garrus stepped back with a satisfied expression. "You didn't really have to pay up. I don't need new armor."

Shepard stood before him in the close-fitting black suit that she wore under her armor. With some concern, he realized that her pupils were still blown wide and dark, and recalled that distorted pupil size could be an indication of concussion in humans.

"You sure about that?" Shepard lifted a hand to rap her knuckles lightly against the chest piece of his own armor. "What are the chances I can talk you into letting me burn this set?" Her bare hand slid along the broken, ragged edge of his collar, and dipped in to curl dexterous, alien fingers around the clasp.

"Burn it... what?" Garrus stuttered in confusion as his commander began conscientiously pulling off his armor. She knew the fastenings well enough now that she had his chest plate off and was working on his left shoulder piece before he managed to catch up. "Shepard, are you sure you're not concussed? Your pupils are dilated."

She paused, tilting her head so those eyes with their blown-to-black pupils settled on him intently. "Oh, Vakarian. You have so much to learn about human biology." Her mouth was twitching into a smile he could only call devious, as Shepard leaned in closer. "That's also a sign that a human is _very_ happy," she whispered wickedly into his ear and for a second, Garrus was almost certain he was having a heart attack.

His heart beat wildly against his ribcage, leaping in reckless thumps as he reared back to stare at her.

"Unless you _want_ to sleep in your armor?" she teased gently, lifting a hand to press her palm against his injured mandible.

Garrus exhaled slowly, turning his head into that warm, many-fingered hand. "Gives me a hell of a crick in the neck when I do," he managed to answer, and felt the silent laughter vibrate through her body.

It didn't take long before the rest of the blackened and broken armour lay beside her own. Garrus stood before her in a dark under suit not unlike her own, peering uncertainly across the dim shuttle at her.

Shepard lifted her hand towards his visor, the only tech he still wore. "You know, that seems an unfair advantage," she teased quietly, but despite her words she made no move to take it off. He felt her finger trace lightly over the framework, and knew what she was looking at. The names of his team, the scratched-out name of Sidonis.

"How else will I keep up with the first human Spectre?" Garrus watched the feedback scrolling past the visor in fascination. He could see the quickened heartbeat, the flashes of muscle tension as her hand traced hesitantly over the visor, and the slight jump in her breathing. It wasn't new data; his visor had always fed through this sort of information even when the battlefield programs weren't activated. But her explanation of dilated pupils in a human had him wondering what else he was missing, even with all the intel right in front of him.

"You're doing just fine, Vakarian."

The smile playing about her mouth was familiar to him; it was the one that said she had trouble in mind. When her hand shifted downwards from the visor frame, and delicate fingers ran lightly over his cheek, Garrus had no hope of containing the shiver that rolled over him. Shepard stood on tiptoe, bringing her face closer to his. Her hands dropped from his face, but her _breath_ ... He could feel the soft gust of air against his face, and couldn't hide the second shiver.

"Does it hurt?" she asked softly. Her mouth was a hair's breadth from the wounded right mandible, and he didn't have to ask what she meant.

Garrus shook his head fractionally. "N-no," he managed, and cleared his throat. "It doesn't hurt anymore." Nothing he couldn't live with, anyway.

He could feel her lips against his cheek now, felt them turn upwards and knew she was smiling. "Good."

Shepard's voice was calm, but he could feel an answering tremble in her slender frame. She moved again, soft lips and warm breath and _oh damn_, the wet heat of her tongue sliding along the length of the injured mandible - was she _trying_ to kill him?

Garrus let out a strangled sound, his heart pounding against his ribs. He fumbled awkwardly, grabbing her upper arms and pulling her sharply off him. "She-pard," he managed brokenly, and _damn her_, she was smirking up at him with wicked delight sparkling in her eyes. "Never knew you were so dangerous without a gun," he muttered, drawing in a deep breath as he fought to calm his heartbeat.

Shepard grinned up at him. "Turians don't do anything like this, huh?"

He exhaled shakily. "Not... quite... like this," he admitted, relaxing his grip on her arms.

"Guess there's something my species can teach yours, after all." She stretched up onto her toes again, and he felt the sweet warmth of her mouth press briefly against his injured mandible.

_This is kissing. I can definitely see what all the fuss is about. _

More than a few turians he'd worked with in C-Sec had taken up with asari, but Garrus had never seen the appeal. Now, closing his hands around Shepard's sleek, curving hips, Vakarian got it. The firm muscles he could feel under his hands were like nothing he was used to; she lay a mouth devoid of mandibles and wicked-sharp teeth against his mouth and he shuddered under the new sensations.

"This is definitely better than my last camping trip," he heard her murmur in satisfaction. It slid through the haze of her touch, and Garrus blinked until the world came back into focus.

"Camping trip?"

Her laughter filled the shuttle, incredulous and fond. "Don't turians go camping? Just take off into the wilderness and rough it for a few days?"

"Oh." Vakarian nodded in understanding. "Sure. Dad used to take my sister and I out for survival training all the time."

Pulling back, Shepard eyed him sceptically. "Not quite the same thing. Back on Mindoir, we'd hitch a tent a few miles out from the colony and spend a couple days doing as little as possible. Camping is meant to be _relaxing_, Garrus."

He considered that briefly, fully aware that this was the first time he'd heard her mention Mindoir voluntarily. _Ever. _The only reason he even knew about her past was because it was in her public files. "I guess that's another thing you can teach me," Garrus answered, deciding not to call attention to it.

It brought an affectionate smile to her lips. Shepard dropped back onto her heels, touching his face gently. "Deal. One day, after we save the galaxy _again_, you and I will take off for the most remote place we can find and I'll teach you the fine art of doing absolutely nothing."

Privately, Garrus thought if Shepard had to sit still for more than a day, she'd go berserk and start shooting the place up for the hell of it. But then his brain kicked in, and he realised she was _making plans_ for them. His eyes widened, because even though there was no suggestion she had anything romantic in mind, it was still... promising. "Sounds good," he managed to get out around a throat gone dry from nerves.

Her smile altered fractionally. "C'mon," she said, nudging him lightly. "It's been a long day, and we have an early start. I need my best sniper rested for tomorrow's mission."

"Your _only _sniper, Shepard," he pointed out.

She answered him with a grin, dropping to her knees to unzip her sleeping kit. Garrus paused long enough to kill the dim overhead lights, before he joined her. His visor's night vision outlined Shepard clearly as she lay down beside him. Hesitating briefly, Garrus removed the visor and lay it down carefully nearby.

"I wondered if you slept with that thing," Shepard's voice came from the darkness.

He chuckled, settling the thermal blanket across his chest and lying back. "Funny, Shepard. By the way, Wrex has a truck we can borrow in the morning. He's agreed to let us use it as long as I drive."

"What?!" The outrage was vivid in her voice, and Garrus chuckled.

"His planet, his rules, Shepard." Actually, what Wrex had said was '_don't let Shepard get behind the wheel. We don't have the spare parts to fix what she'd do to it_.' But sometimes, a bit of discretion came in handy.

"I'll remind him of that next time he wants a favor," Shepard grumbled.

He felt his mandibles lift into a smile. She was skilled in many areas, but she refused to admit that her driving ability left a little something to be desired. Soothingly, he stretched out a hand and brushed her fingers lightly. They were both lying on their backs, but the cramped cabin meant that there was barely any space between them. Over the low hum of the Kodiak's life support system, he heard her sigh quietly, and her hand curled warmly into his.

"Night, Garrus," she said softly.

Closing his hand around hers, he squeezed lightly in response. The soft whisper of her breathing and the warmth of her hand against his filled his awareness.

Vakarian lay there in the dark, staring peacefully up at the ceiling of the Kodiak, until he heard Shepard's breathing settle into the steady rhythm of sleep. When her hand relaxed in his, he exhaled softly.

"Sweet dreams, Shepard," he murmured into the darkness. Then closed his eyes and slept.


	18. Chapter 17: Hidden From Their Eyes

A/N - This one has not been proof-read, so any and all errors are my own! It's been so long since I updated (for which I blame a boy, a job, and Halloween) that I didn't want to wait any longer to get something out. Thank you to all who have been patiently waiting for an update, and thank you for all the reviews, favorites and follows - I hope you enjoy :)

* * *

Shepard gave Massani a sharp once over and nodded. "Vakarian, take him back to the Normandy and get him set up. I've got to pick up a few things while we're here."

The turian swivelled to face her instantly, eyes narrowed in surprise. "You sure that's -"

"I've got Tali. I'll be fine."

She cut him off, because she didn't want to have to reprimand him in front of the others. He knew better than to ask that kind of question. It was just being back on Omega that made him twitchy. Hell, she couldn't really blame him for that. Walking into the den of the people with a hit out on you would make anyone nervous. Even if right now, with his clean new armor gleaming dully under the low light of Omega's docks, he looked more like a member of the Turian Hierarchy than the vigilante sniper that had plagued three merc groups into banding together.

Garrus hesitated, flicked a quick look over at Tali, and nodded. "See you when you get back, Commander."

Shepard watched him lead their new crew member through the airlock, and felt the weight of Tali's scrutiny settle on her.

"More shopping, Commander?" the quarian asked ironically.

Shepard settled her pistol back onto its holster and smiled grimly. "Not quite. We have some loose ends to tidy up."

* * *

Afterlife was as noisy, filthy and chaotic as ever. Barely-dressed asari writhed against poles and danced on tables, and if Shepard knew anything about this place, it was that most of them were Aria's spies and soldiers. Probably all of them.

She bee-lined past the bar, heading straight for the back office Aria used. Grizz stopped her at the foot of the stairs, eying her weapons pointedly.

"She'll want to hear what I have to say. Trust me on this. And we're not going in there unarmed," Shepard promised, her expression determined.

Behind her, Tali shifted and drew the guards attention. "Unless you think your guards can't handle us?"

Shepard had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from smirking. Grizz growled something unintelligible into his radio, waited a moment, then nodded to them.

"You can go up."

Shepard didn't bother with a reply; she was already climbing the stairs at a determined pace. There were other guards inside Aria's office, and asari dancers wrapped themselves around poles outside the windows, conveniently positioned so that one good biotic blast would shatter the glass and take out anyone threatening their 'queen.'

"Commander Shepard."

The queen herself lounged languidly along a couch that stretched the entire back wall of this eyrie. Aria's gaze dragged lazily across them both but Shepard was well aware of the cold, ruthless mind that lay behind those eyes; a mind that took insignificant details and disconnected snatches of rumour and wove them together into an intelligence network significant enough to rule this place for centuries.

"To what do I owe the honor?" Aria purred, gesturing towards an empty seat near her.

Shepard gave Tali the 'hold' sign they used in combat - a mere flick of fingers - and moved past the bristling guards to take the seat.

"Always a pleasure to see you again, Aria." She pulled out her most charming smile and saw the asari grimace.

"Cut the crap, Shepard. Last time you were on Omega, you wiped out three merc bands and gate crashed a quarantine zone. What do you want now?"

Shepard settled back into the seat. Leather. Real leather. She didn't want to picture what it might have come from. "I want to trade."

Aria's eyes widened in surprise, her mouth curling in wicked delight. "What do you have on offer?"

This was where it got tricky. Shepard could pull out the charm and sweet talk people into doing what she wanted them to - especially when she had a gun to back up her requests. But Aria had been making deals on Omega before the Commander's great-grandparents had been born. It might have been humbling to another person. Shepard just took it as a challenge.

"I came across some information you might be interested in. It concerns a threat to your throne." With her smile firmly in place, Shepard fished out the datapad they'd stumbled across on their last visit. "This was on one of the mercs trying to take out Archangel. They're coming for you next."

She had no concerns that the mercs had already made their move, since she and her team had decimated all three groups on their last visit. But the intel was still valid, and she knew it. A plan to take out Omega's queen would have been issued from the top of the merc group, not whatever local chapter she and her squad had obliterated. Shepard was betting that the recent alliance between mercenary groups would make even a small challenge to Omega's rule a danger that the asari couldn't ignore.

Aria extended her hand, but only smirked when Shepard held the file out of reach. Omega's queen regarded her thoughtfully. "What do you want in return?"

Shepard exhaled carefully. "Amnesty for Archangel."

She hadn't told Tali what they were doing here, and out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the girl stiffen in surprise. Aria caught it too, turning to study the quarian briefly before settling her focus back on Shepard. She was smiling.

"I'd heard Archangel made it out. So you got to him before Jaroth blew his brains out. I'm impressed." The asari curled her feet up onto the couch beside her, looking as smug as a cat.

"He's not going to cause any more trouble on Omega for you," Shepard said, deliberately ignoring the knowing look the asari was bestowing on her. There was no way she could know about her and Garrus. None. "All I want is for you to get the mercs to back off. He's not going after them anymore." Shepard paused to review that statement. "Not here," she amended.

Aria seemed to be considering it. "Here is all I can offer. What the mercs do beyond Omega is outside of my control."

The smooth polish of that statement had Shepard questioning its validity. She wouldn't be surprised at all to find that Aria was building her own little pirate empire out here, uniting the merc groups into a cohesive fleet to defend and expand her territory. "Let's say I believe that. Omega is all I want. You put out the word that Archangel isn't to be touched here, and I'll hand over my intel."

It wasn't a big deal where Aria was concerned. She would probably catch the attack against her before it got any real momentum, but then Shepard wasn't asking for anything major in return. Just assurance that they could all avoid one more dead body on the deck. It kept peace in her little empire, and she'd stay on the good side of a Spectre. There were fringe benefits to this deal and Shepard watched the asari review them in the space of a heartbeat.

Aria smiled. "We have a deal. Give your intel to Grizz on the way out. The locals will know Archangel is off limits before you get back to your ship."

Shepard didn't relax, but she did stand up. Even with Tali to watch her back, facing up against Aria was always a giant question mark. You never knew which way she'd go. "Pleasure doing business with you, Aria. I'll see myself out."

It was Aria, and of course she couldn't let Shepard leave without a parting shot. "You should find a nice young man to keep you warm in the meantime. You look like you need to loosen up a little," Aria drawled suggestively.

Shepard paused for only a moment, before she kept walking. Tali didn't say anything, but Shepard could hear Aria's low, deliberate laughter as they descended the stairs leading to her eyrie.

The guards didn't take their eyes off her until she had handed over the data file and passed back into the main floor of the club. Shepard caught more than one asari twisting and climbing around her pole to keep an eye on her and Tali until they reached the main entrance.

When they reached the long, flame-lined corridor that led out, Tali finally spoke up. "Next time you try something like that, can you give me a heads up? Please?"

The poor girl sounded strained and Shepard chuckled. "Relax, Tali. I had faith in your shotgun."

She heard the quarian sigh as they exited Afterlife. "So what was that all about anyway? It's not like we're going to be spending much time on Omega."

Passing the long queue of people waiting to get into Afterlife, they headed for the docks. "Maybe not," Shepard admitted honestly. "But at least this is one less thing for Garrus to worry about. And no matter what she says, Aria's word carries weight all over the Terminus systems. Everyone has to trade here and nobody wants to piss her off."

"I've heard of her rule," Tali replied drily. "So this was all for Garrus, huh?"

Shepard pulled up and threw her a warning look. She knew where Tali was going with this. The Normandy was a small ship with too many gossips. But it wasn't something Shepard wanted to talk about - not yet, not even with Tali.

The quarian girl tilted her head and it was too easy to picture a smile behind that amethyst face plate. "I'm happy for you, Shepard," was all she said.

Much as she had with Aria, Shepard paused, considered her options, and again decided silence was the best response. But as they navigated their way through the crowded docks towards the Normandy's airlock, she could feel the quarian's quiet delight radiating out from her.

* * *

Joker started in on her as soon as she hit the Normandy's airlock.

"Hey Shepard. Another hard-ass on board, huh? That's great, because I really need more stink-eye coming my way."

The Commander closed her eyes and fought not to sigh. When she opened them, she saw Tali studying her questioningly but waved the girl away. She could deal with Joker without backup.

As the quarian obediently headed off, Shepard stepped fully into the cockpit and levelled her attention on the pilot. "What's the problem? He's only been on board half an hour."

Joker laughed sharply. "He's a lunatic, Commander. The guy's already suggesting we plant _explosives_ in the airlock so we can blow it in case we're boarded. Nobody's blowing up my ship, and they're damned sure not putting _grenades_ that close to _me_!"

She felt her mouth quirk against a grin. "Sure he wasn't just messing with you?"

"Mr Moreau is unfortunately correct, Shepard," EDI spoke up. "Our new guest has taken lodging in the Starboard Cargo Area and I regret to advise that my interior optics are no longer functional in that area. Nearby sensors have detected traces of microfilament explosive material."

Shepard's eyes widened in alarm, her amusement vanishing sharply. "He's setting up proximity defences in the _trash compactor?!_" she asked faintly.

_What the hell did I just bring on board my ship?_

Joker's smirk widened. "This is what I'm sayin' Commander. He's worse than Jack. At least all she does is pick sexy catfights and swear a lot."

Briefly, Shepard regretted not taking longer to speak with Massani before sending him back to the ship. But she'd been eager to get away from Omega, and Garrus should have been able to handle the guy. Unless Garrus had been distracted by their new guest's obsession with security. She fought the urge to groan in dismay at that likelihood, and held up a hand at Joker. "Fine. It's fine, I'll deal with it. EDI, I can't guarantee you'll get visual back in that room, but nobody's going to blow up bits of you."

The AI almost sounded relieved. "I appreciate that, Shepard."

"And can we agree to not bring anymore crazy people onto the ship? Please?" Joker asked plaintively. "I think we reached our quota already."

"Just get us out of here, Joker," Shepard answered on a weary sigh, turning her back and heading towards CIC. She pretended not to hear the cranky muttering coming from the cockpit behind her, instead lifting a hand to her ear to open an internal line to Garrus. "Vakarian, why is our new friend laying explosives on my ship?"

There was a startled silence that lasted until Shepard crossed through CIC and stepped into the lift. Then she heard Garrus clear his throat sharply. "_Sorry, Shepard. I authorised some basic security, I didn't realize he'd take it that far_." There was a second pause, and Garrus added admiringly, "_didn't take him long. I only left him ten minutes ago_."

Leaning back against the lift as the doors closed, Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "Apparently that was long enough."

Garrus sounded abashed. "_I'll deal with it. Miranda asked you to stop by her office once you got back._"

That caught her attention. While her instincts warned her it was important to establish her own authority over a loose cannon like Massani _now_, it was just as important for Vakarian to assert his own position in the chain of command. She would stop by the damn trash compactor after she spoke with Miranda. It was unlikely the woman had any new intel on the IFF transmitter; she wouldn't risk talking about that where the Cerberus bugs in her cabin would overhear.

"Fine. Meet me in Miranda's office when you're done. And _no explosives_, Garrus," she emphasised, before clicking off the line.

Movement to her right, a flickering where there had been nothing a moment earlier, alerted her. Shepard spun and drew her weapon in one sharp movement, only to find herself staring at a decloaked Kasumi.

"Easy, Shep. You could take a girls eye out with that thing," the thief purred coyly.

"Dammit, Kasumi. Didn't we talk about you wearing a bell around your neck?" Shepard muttered, re-holstering the Carnifex. As far as the Commander knew, only Samara and Thane had any idea when the cloaked thief was about. She'd even been able to interfere with Garrus' visor so it filtered her out, frustrating the hell out of the turian.

"Not really my style. Our new guest is settling in with a bang, hmm? Apparently he's big on privacy."

_Well, this can't be good. _

"Kasumi," Shepard ground out painfully. "Tell me you didn't try to sneak into his quarters already. I told you to stay out of other people's rooms."

The thief's eyes were hidden by her hood, but her mouth curved into a smile. "I never _try_ to sneak, Shep. Trying implies the possibility of failure. Besides," she went on defensively, "it's not exactly his room yet. He hasn't even been on board an hour."

"Leave him alone, Kasumi. I've just sorted out Jack and Miranda, I don't need more crew at each other's throats," the Commander snapped.

"You're sounding a little tense there, Shep. Maybe you should take some time off. You know, go lock yourself away in the main battery with a certain turian."

_First Tali, now Kasumi. Does everyone on this damn ship know?_

Shepard levelled her most intimidating command stare at the unrepentant thief.

Kasumi smiled. "Or you can stop by my place for a drink sometime," she suggested as the lift stopped at the Crew Deck.

The girl gave a cheery wave and sauntered out, disappearing down the corridor leading to the Port Observation area she had claimed as her own.

Resisting the urge to sigh again, the Commander rounded the corner, bypassing the galley on her way to Miranda's cabin. It had taken her a while to stop thinking of it as _'hers,'_ even with the fancy penthouse digs Cerberus had pulled together for her. On every other Alliance frigate she'd served on, those quarters were reserved for the commander. She could still remember the long hours spent alone in that cabin on the original Normandy, wrestling with the new role of Spectre and what it meant for her mission to locate Saren.

Shooting a sidelong glance at the darkened doorway to the main battery, Shepard reflected ruefully that it was probably just as well she wasn't quartered so close to a certain turian.

Shaking her head, she lifted her hand to the sensor pad by Miranda's door and waited for the woman to let her in.

* * *

Leaning forward, Shepard peered intently at the data files spread precisely across Miranda's pristine desk. The Cerberus agent had clearly outlined the scenario that prompted this meeting: a lost survey ship and two MIA Cerberus scientists.

_Well, we need to keep the Collectors focussed on us instead of the colonies. This is as good an excuse as any other._

Shepard looked up from the minimalist dossiers on the two missing scientists, raising an eyebrow at Lawson. "These look a little light."

_That_ was being generous. They made the Illusive Man's dossiers on Jack and 'Archangel' look comprehensive by comparison.

Seated on the other side of the wide desk, Miranda smiled serenely back at her. "I've worked with Dr Cayce before, he's a specialist on Prothean archaeology. Not quite in the same league as your Dr T'Soni, of course, but he's a few decades behind her in experience. I know Dr O'Loy by reputation only, but they're both pure research scientists."

The implication was apparent, and Shepard considered the two dossiers dubiously. Cerberus scientists carried a bad reputation, but pure research suggested a lack of the kinds of practical experimentation they'd seen so much of on Chasca.

"Did I mention that the _Rosalie_ was carrying an experimental planetary rover that we're also hoping to recover?" Lawson commented, adding another file to the stack. This one detailed a land vehicle; design specs, still images, and brief footage of it in action.

Picking up the file, the Commander regarded a rover as physically and operationally opposite from her old Mako as it was possible to be, while still fulfilling the same function. This one was called a Hammerhead, and it was sleek and light weight, designed more for hopping over obstacles than rolling roughshod over them.

Shepard felt her mouth twitching against a smile, and she lifted her gaze to the woman opposite her. "Trying to sweeten the deal?"

Miranda's eyes gleamed. "I've heard you like ground vehicles. Figured it couldn't hurt."

That earned a full laugh, and Shepard dropped the file back on the desk. "Fine, the timings right and so is the location. We're fully stocked and I want to get some distance between us and Omega for a while. I'll call a team briefing in an hour, and we'll get organized to go rescue your missing doctors."

With an expression of mingled gratitude and relief, Miranda nodded in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Shepard."

There was a knock at the door, drawing both their attention simultaneously. "I asked Garrus to stop by," the Commander explained.

"Of course," Miranda answered easily.

Rising to open the door, Shepard briefly wondered if her morning had made her paranoid about how the crew were interpreting her friendship - relationship - _whatever_ - with Vakarian. But try as she might, she couldn't hear anything but matter-of-fact understanding in the Cerberus woman's tone. Shrugging it off, the Commander hit the keypad by the door and let it slide open. No matter what her crew thought, they were all professionals. For that matter, so were she and Garrus.

Finding herself suddenly face to face with over six feet of lean, sharp-boned turian, however, Shepard's heart skipped a beat in a way that didn't feel very professional. Particularly not when a vivid blue eye regarded her from behind the insightful lens of a visor readout, and she damned well _knew_ he'd caught that.

Shepard deliberately stepped back to gesture him into the cabin. "I take it our new crew member is all settled?" she asked pointedly.

Stepping inside the cabin, Garrus flicked a nod of greeting towards Miranda. "He understands the house rules." The pronounced flanging of his voice suggested strongly that impressing those house rules on the stubborn Massani had not been an easy task. "Sorry about that. I should have dealt with it straight up."

"Don't worry about it," Shepard answered easily, leaning over to grab the specs on the Hammerhead from Miranda's desk. She offered them to him with a smile similar to the one she'd offered Aria an hour earlier. "I've found the perfect revenge. Read up on these... If we do track it down, you can oversee any repairs."

She watched him glance over the file, and fight to keep his face composed as he realized what he was looking at. Shepard was honest enough to admit to herself that she enjoyed the moment a little too much. It reminded her of that younger, less seasoned Officer Vakarian who'd so politely struggled not to vent his frustration at his Commander, each time she cheerfully brought back a badly damaged Mako for him to fix.

"Another ground vehicle, huh?" Garrus tapped the prominent logo at the top of the specs file and sighed. "One more thing to thank Cerberus for."

"It comes with a price tag," Miranda interjected with a smile, nodding towards the remaining files still scattered across her desk.

Vakarian's answering chuckle was dry. "It always does. But we do need a testing ground for Massani."

"This is a good option," Shepard agreed. "I'll fill you in on the details. Was there anything else, Miranda?"

The brunette's hesitation was brief but enough to catch her attention immediately. Miranda casually pulled out an additional file from her desk drawer, and dropped it on top of the others. "Nothing critical, just some routine issues," she replied, sliding the files into a neat pile. "Our Combat R&D department has put together a new set of armor you might like. Take a close look over it and let me know what you think."

There was too much tension in Miranda, and too much careful precision in her movements as she passed over the files with their new addition. But Shepard took them without question. "Thanks, I'll do that," she assured the woman, and thoughtfully followed her sniper out of the cabin.

"I take it this means we're about to stick our heads out and see if the Collectors are still paying attention?" Vakarian asked curiously, as they both turned automatically towards the galley and up the long ramp towards the main battery.

"Mmhmm," Shepard confirmed. "Some missing Cerberus scientists that the Illusive Man wants us to track down. Miranda vouched for them."

It was a mark of how much Lawson had earned his trust over the past weeks, that this was enough to make Garrus nod in acceptance. "Anything I should know about?"

Shepard followed him into the main battery, waiting until they were sealed inside before she answered. She watched as Garrus glanced carefully about the room, scanning for any listening devices that may have been replaced. "Nothing too strange in the mission brief, but that's not unusual."

The Illusive Man's missions always _seemed_ straight forward, up until you were in the middle of them. Simple, straight forward missions like a prisoner exchange, collection of a krogan warlord, or investigating a derelict ship. They all ended up going sideways somehow, but the best they could do was stay alert and react to whatever developed.

Garrus snorted in amusement, touching the side of his visor briefly. "Still clean. What else did Miranda give you?"

_He caught that too, huh? Well, look who's the new expert on reading human body language. _

Not too long ago, the turian would have missed the subtlety of that exchange. Shepard found herself grinning a little, even as she pulled out the package of files and flicked through for the new addition.

Behind the technical specifications for the new _Inferno _armor, Miranda had embedded additional files. Peering at the neat lines of text and carefully labelled diagrams of a scientific report, the Commander realized that this was the intel Miranda had been chasing on the Illusive Man's claim to have found a derelict Reaper.

Moving to the terminal, Shepard lay the file flat across it. Garrus edged up behind her, his sleek form towering over her shoulder. She felt his breath ruffle her hair as they both stared at the Alliance header on what appeared to be an internal memo. The file contained supposition and theory, rather than the polished structure of a published scientific report, but it was easy to get the gist of it.

Eyes widening, Shepard read quickly through the author's detailed argument that the planet's Great Rift was the result of an ancient mass accelerator weapon, and their complex calculations attempting to backtrack to the source of the attack.

"This is from the Alliance science team," Garrus breathed in surprise. "This is what Cerberus intercepted that led them to the derelict Reaper."

"Those reports are usually stored on a secure database," the Commander answered carefully.

She felt Garrus nudge her shoulder lightly in rebuke. "You really think Cerberus can't get through the kind of security used by _archaeologists?"_ He paused briefly. "I mean, archaeologists who aren't Liara."

Shepard chuckled. "Good point. But that doesn't make this any less of a trap. The last 'derelict' vessel the Illusive Man sent us to was very much alive."

"We're pretty good at surviving traps." She could hear the dry humor under the flange of his voice and couldn't deny the truth of it. "What else did she find?"

She flicked through to the second report embedded in Miranda's intel. This one was emblazoned with the familiar Cerberus logo and filled with the precise language of a Cerberus field report. The author, a Dr Chandana, reported on the successful boarding of an ancient vessel. He appeared confident that the vessel was uninhabited and abandoned, and described their initial exploration of the ship.

At the conclusion of the Cerberus field report, Miranda had included a brief note on her findings.

_'Shepard, the trajectory of the weapon that caused the Great Rift on Klendagon matches the general coordinates of Chandana's team. Subsequent field reports from Dr Chandana are encrypted with the Illusive Man's personal code. I'm sorry I can't access anything further for you.'_

"They found something out there. If the Illusive Man wants to keep this hidden, I'm willing to bet that ship's not abandoned," Garrus drawled thoughtfully.

Shepard exhaled. "Looks like this IFF is for real. But a Reaper ship... You were right, big guy. We aren't ready yet."

The turian's long hand pressed down against her shoulder gently. "That ship has been sitting out there for thousands of years. It will still be there in a few more weeks," he reminded her.

Turning under that light touch, she found him watching her with such calm assurance that the twisting knot of unease in her middle slowly began to relax. "We do have some work to do with our newcomers," Shepard acknowledged, considering their options.

Blue eyes gleamed down at her. "Grunt is settling down, and Dr Chakwas tells me Krios should remain medically sound for a few more months."

That matched what she'd seen in the past week since their return from Tuchanka. The young krogan had lost the bulk of his uncontrolled aggression. He remained belligerent, defiant and impulsive, of course, but that was what Shepard expected from a young krogan. At least there had been no more damaging spars between him and Garrus.

"Samara's oath is a pretty good guarantee," Shepard went on, tilting her head to watch him. "But I'm not sure about our newest recruit."

His hand – alien but somehow so familiar – shifted unexpectedly and slid carefully down her arm. "Cerberus has already paid Massani," Garrus pointed out. "He has a reputation for being loyal to his pay check."

Shepard found herself more distracted by that innocent touch than she should be. But it was the first time Garrus had made any move to initiate something less-than-professional between them. Definitely something she wanted to encourage.

"He also has a reputation for blowing things up," she reminded him dryly, pressing her palms flat against the unmarred plating of his new armor. It was still surreal to see him in anything other than the old broken set of armor, like a pleasant surprise anytime she looked at him.

His answering chuckle vibrated through his chest, under her hands. "Massani seems the sort that has to push. Like Jack. When the time comes, everything I know about him says he'll do what he's paid to do."

Despite the confidence in his voice, she could see the nervousness in him. When he curled his other hand against her hip, his touch was careful and light and strangely familiar. It was the same eager but uncertain manner he'd started to use whenever things verged into this new territory.

Really, it was ridiculous how much she liked seeing him like this. The suave, confident Archangel suddenly so unsure of himself.

"Fine," she said, not fighting the grin that tugged at her mouth. "But you can explain it to Joker if he damages the ship."

His mandibles tilted up in response. "Deal. Now... Can you tell me what you needed Tali for today?"

It was a careful question, but one she'd been expecting. Shepard met his gaze straight on and answered honestly. "I needed backup when I went to Afterlife."

She felt the tension in his body immediately, even through the armor. Garrus' mandibles slanted downward in that way she recognized as concern. "Shepard," he breathed, staring down at her. "What-"

"We didn't run into any trouble," she reassured him. "Aria and I traded. Our intel on the Suns plan to move against her, in exchange for her calling off the head hunters out for your blood."

So maybe she was a little smug about that. It had gone more smoothly than she'd expected, and Shepard had to admit she was relieved. The last thing they needed on this mission was for her right hand man to be running around with a bullseye on his back.

But if anything, Vakarian looked even more alarmed. "You made a deal with Aria?" he asked faintly, the flanging element to his voice suddenly very pronounced. "Shepard, three hundred year old krogans come out worse in deals with Aria. This wasn't worth it."

His concern made her touch his face lightly, running bare fingers along the injured mandible. "Relax, big guy. It's done, and now we don't have to worry about every merc in the Terminus systems trying to take a shot at you."

He wanted to argue, she could see it in his eyes. Garrus had probably seen any number of deals made with Aria go south during his time on Omega. Shepard watched him silently wrestle with it, vivid blue eyes watching her fiercely.

"You really are crazy, you know," he said eventually, but his low-pitched voice was admiring.

"So I've heard," Shepard answered wryly. She felt both his hands settle back against her hips and let him draw her in closer. "I told you we're a team. I've got your back."

_Always. _

She felt more than saw him tilt his head downwards, his forehead resting lightly against hers. Shepard closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him. He smelled of gun oil and new armor, and under that the familiar turian scent. Nothing had changed with the mission, or what they were facing. There were still monsters out there to be fought, and ancient aliens to be defeated. But standing there, enjoying the closeness of him, Shepard decided that even a Spectre was allowed to enjoy a bit of happiness every now and then. Or what the hell were they fighting for?

Garrus exhaled softly, his forehead pressed tight against hers. "Thank you, Shepard."

She smiled and felt his mandibles shift in an echo of it.

"Anytime, Vakarian."


	19. Chapter 18: Keep Me Dancing

**A/N -** I am finishing up the next chapter and hope to have it up in a few days. In the meantime, enjoy! :)

* * *

It was supposed to be a straight forward pick up, so of course it went sideways. Cerberus had shipped a batch of new weapons to the Teshub transit station under the name of a dummy corporation, but the shipping container had proven too great a temptation for a local crew of Blood Pack mercs with nothing better to do. By the time the Normandy had arrived to pick up the equipment, the docking bay was crawling with krogan and vorcha, eagerly pawing over their new 'find.'

If they'd had Tali as planned, Garrus knew that the Commander would have hesitated before barging in, guns firing. But the quarian had pulled out just before departure after getting a priority message from the Flotilla, and Samara had volunteered to take her place. With a biotic powerhouse like Samara or Jack, Shepard had the habit of adopting a more reckless approach. It left them in an all-out shooting war with a heavy-hitting crew of Blood Pack, with Shepard pinned down in a corner by a crew of vorcha pyros. Garrus liked Samara - the lady had class - but today he'd have traded her for Tali in a heartbeat, even if it meant putting up with the noise from that damned drone of hers.

Rolling sharply behind the cover of a nearby shipping container, Garrus swore under his breath. A brief scan of his visor readout gave no help; it was lit up with the enemy combatants swarming the crowded docking bay, highlighting too damn many angles of attack and offering an alarmingly limited number of firing solutions. Keeping his head down, Vakarian edged carefully along the length of the blockish shipping container. He fingers curled around the rifle grip uneasily, and he listened intently for the sharp high-pitched whine of Shepard's Shuriken as she returned fire. Beyond that, he could hear the snarl of a charging krogan and the bone-shaking vibration of a biotic burst from Samara as she dealt with it.

_Dammit, Shepard. _

Rolling sharply behind a loading lift, Garrus sought a halfway decent vantage point. Shepard was going to get her head shot off one of these days if she kept relying on brute biotic strength as backup anytime they had the asari with them.

"Shepard, I've got line of sight on you," he uttered finally, hearing the clear relief in his own voice and ignoring it. Garrus squinted down on the first vorcha, its head lined up squarely in his sights, and fired.

Watching the explosion of blood through the scope was more satisfying than ever.

"_Thanks big guy_," Shepard answered over the radio. The pyros scrambled for cover as his target dropped, giving her the room she needed to come out firing without having her skin burnt to a crisp.

Garrus didn't answer, too busy checking on Samara as she slammed the now-stunned krogan into convenient walls. Observing her calm, composed stance as she did so, he had to give her points for style. The sniper exhaled, and began laying quick, precise cover fire over the main floor of the docking bay.

On his left flank, he heard Shepard taking down the pyros. One by one, their markers vanished on his visor readout, while her kill count flicked higher and higher. His tension eased further with each flick of the counter. Combat was always messy and chaotic, when people were doing their best to slaughter one another with high powered weapons, but Garrus was used to the meticulous precision Shepard typically brought to her missions. Going in blind wasn't like her at all, and it was always unnerving when she got reckless.

"I'm still up on you, Shepard," he pointed out cheerfully, flicking a glance over their respective kill counts. She'd gotten a little too cocky one night in the galley, and he'd called her on it. The matching displays on his visor HUD helped them to quantify their friendly rivalry.

"Check again, Vakarian!" Shepard crowed, as she took out the last of the pyros, nudging her kill count ahead of his.

_Barely. _

Garrus popped a hissing heat sink out of his rifle, and eyed Samara as she took down a trio of vorcha troopers. The asari neatly stepped over their fallen bodies; Vakarian snapped the new thermal clip into place.

"Shepard!" Samara called sharply, sudden alarm strident in her voice. Garrus' visor caught the hot flash of fire before he saw it with his own eyes. It caught Shepard square in the back, jerking her briefly before she dropped limply.

Spinning lightly on his toes, the turian snapped his rifle up and fired before he was even clear on a target. A sniper rifle wasn't always great for such close range, and he hadn't had time to adjust the angle with any precision but his Incisor packed enough of a punch to overcome a clumsy shot. He saw a figure - _vorcha, alone, M-3 Predator_ - drop under his fire.

"I've got her covered," Samara called, and the blue shimmer of a biotic barrier flickered into existence around her and their fallen Commander.

The vorcha was down but those bastards were tough and they regenned almost as fast as the krogans they ran with. Garrus tried to shove aside any concern for Shepard - _her shield was almost down and that Predator can tear right through armor; was there enough power left in her shield to slow it down at all?_ - and moved in towards the vorcha.

It was already back on its knees, fumbling for the heavy pistol it had dropped. Garrus dumped the rifle and grabbed his Carnifex instead, aiming for a head shot. It moved - _fast_ - dammit those things were always unpredictable, and Vakarian found himself suddenly grappling with a snarling vorcha. The air rushed out of his lungs in a startled gasp, as he was shoved backwards, and down. He scrabbled for traction but his boots slid, forcing him to take the full impact across his back as the vorcha slammed them both into the deck plating.

Garrus gasped around the sharp stab of impact shock, feeling the vorcha scrabbling to grab the Carnifex his right hand still grasped loosely. He blinked to clear his vision and slammed his arm out wildly. It connected with the vorcha's face, the force of the impact jarring down his elbow but knocking the trooper back for a moment. It was just a moment's distraction as the vorcha shook his head in disorientation, but it was enough time for Garrus to bring his Carnifex up.

The vorcha was snarling as he pressed the muzzle of the gun under its chin and squeezed the trigger tightly. It's body went limp and heavy, slumping down over him even as blood and heavier things exploded out the back of its head.

"Dammit." Garrus rolled the dead weight off his chest, sitting up carefully. There was a dull ache down his spine, but none of the sharp, hot pain that signalled serious damage.

His visor flashed only with the two green points of his team mates; no sign of enemy combatants. Vakarian sought out Samara and Shepard and found the asari's biotic field fading into nothingness. Shepard was already on her feet, moving stiffly as she met his gaze ruefully.

"Always have to go for the dramatic last kill, don't you Vakarian?" she muttered, as he got carefully to his feet.

"Don't get cranky just because you're not winning anymore," he answered, wincing as things twinged unpleasantly across his back.

She laughed, and it had the wild edge that never failed to make him grin in response. He'd heard it too many times, in too many tight corners, not to recognize the relief fuelling it.

"Let's get our gear and get out of here. Whatever local security they have is probably on its way, and I don't feel like spending the next hour arguing over whether a Council Spectre's authority extends outside Council space." Shepard leaned down and grabbed her fallen Shuriken, shaking her head wearily as she peered over the corpse-strewn docking bay. "I'm damn glad we got the drop on them. I never would have heard the end of it from Miranda if we'd been robbed by _vorcha._"

* * *

Garrus pushed against the weight machine, groaning as the long muscles down his back protested the effort. He _knew_ he'd pulled something scuffling with that damned vorcha. He'd felt it as soon as the adrenaline started to fade, as they were heading back on the Kodiak. It was nothing to bother Dr Chakwas about, he just needed to work the kinks out.

"Officer Vakarian," EDI interrupted unexpectedly. "You have an incoming message from Palaven."

He froze for a moment. Exhaling carefully, Garrus let the weights fall back into their base, and swung himself up so he was sitting on the bench.

"Would you like me to transfer it to your visor radio, or would you prefer the main station on the flight deck?"

The main station would allow video contact; his visor didn't. Garrus shook his head sharply. "Put it through here," he answered curtly, his stomach twisting anxiously as he waited for the signal of an open line.

A message from Palaven meant only one thing: his family. His father would probably rip his own mandibles off before contacting his rebellious failure of a son. Rubbing awkwardly at his own damaged mandible, Garrus sighed heavily.

It was his sister, it had to be. Which meant bad news about mom.

"Sol?" he asked uneasily as soon as he heard the faint static of an open line.

"Garrus," his sisters voice answered, the unhappiness in it clearly audible. "I don't have a vid connection coming through."

Leaning forward on the weights bench, he rested his head in his hands and sighed. "Sorry sis, I'm only on the visor right now. How's she doing?"

There was no need for him to specify who _she_ was. There was only one reason his sister called these days. Of course, she was also the only member of his family who had any idea of how to reach him.

"Worse, Garrus. The meds aren't helping anymore," Solana said, and he could hear the weariness in his baby sisters voice. It hurt to hear it, hurt more to know there was nothing he could do to help her or their mother.

"Damn, Sol. I'm sorry. I know... we both knew this would happen eventually..."

The doctors had been almost painfully blunt once the diagnosis had been made. The drugs would work, but only for a time. It had held off the inevitable for a year already, and hell, maybe that was all they could ask for.

"Are you coming home?"

It was the resignation in her voice that got him where he lived. The fact that she already knew he'd say no. Garrus felt the familiar guilt swamp over him, twisting uneasily in his gut. He stared blindly down at his hands, not even recognizing that they were clenching and unclenching spasmodically.

"I... I can't, Sol..."

There was a little indrawn breath, the only thing he'd hear of the tears she would never shed. He knew his little sister too damned well. She was the stronger sibling by far, and he wasn't surprised when she responded with anger.

"Why the hell not?" Solana demanded. "Mom's _dying_, Garrus. They've given her three months, tops. What the hell is more important than that?"

_Saving the galaxy from Reapers. Stopping the Collectors from harvesting millions with more assaults on human colonies._

How could he say that to her? The Reapers had been officially denied by the Council, and Spectre Shepard declared an alarmist. Solana would never believe him, and there was nothing else he had to offer.

Garrus sighed heavily, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands again. "Isn't there anything? You told me something about that new research..."

She'd practically been bubbling over with excitement and hope. Even his mother had sounded less resigned that day.

"That's not going anywhere, the salarians had their funding cut. Dammit, Garrus, you need to come back to Palaven."

Garrus Vakarian had never been one to give in and accept the inevitable. If there was even one option left to him, he'd take it. Cut funding just meant a lack of resources, not a dead end. His eyes narrowed as he considered whether Mordin Solus could get his hands on that abandoned research. The doctor was former STG and a genius; Garrus would happily tell the salarian about his mother's situation if there was any hope that Solus could find something to delay the inevitable.

Solana was still waiting for an answer. Spirits, he could picture her so clearly. Eyes flashing, mandibles twitching with restless impatience. Garrus wished he'd had the courage for a vid link up.

"I'll... try," he managed, sighing in regret. He wanted to tell her, wanted to tell her everything. But the channel was hardly secure, and she was more likely to think it was just another cop out. Just Garrus Vakarian running away again.

"You'll try." The flatness of her voice was like a slap in the face. "Sure, Garrus. You do that."

The line dissolved into static, and Garrus stared blankly through the _signal lost _alert flashing across his vision.

"...Garrus?"

He spun sharply at the familiar, quiet voice. Shepard was standing behind him, close enough that she must have heard at least some of his conversation with Sol. Garrus could read human expression well enough to catch the concern on hers now. He hastily played back the conversation, trying to work out what she could have overheard. Enough to worry her, judging from the frown between her eyes as she approached.

"Shepard," he greeted carefully.

She moved closer, looking more uncertain than he was used to seeing her. "You look... unhappy. I didn't meant to eavesdrop. Sounded like a pretty serious conversation."

It was very Shepard. She didn't like to push, but she cared so much about her crew. And self-doubt aside, Garrus had worked out by now that he was more to her than just another crew mate. _Of course_ she was worried.

His hesitated briefly, then flicked his mandibles in resignation. "Sit down," he invited, gesturing to the crate of weapons they'd brought back earlier. Soon enough, Jacob would unpack, catalogue and store the new additions in their armory. For now, they'd been yanked out of the Kodiak's belly and stored on the flight deck, conveniently accessible for Shepard to use as a seat.

He watched her drop onto the crate, mirroring his pose. Legs spread, elbows resting on her knees. He met her eyes and tried to keep his mandibles still. "My mother is dying."

Shepard's eyes widened in alarm. "Was she hurt? An accident? What happened?"

Garrus raised a hand in reassurance. "No, nothing like that. It's an... illness. Corpalis Syndrome. She was diagnosed two years ago. It's terminal."

Two years ago. In fact, a bare month before word reached him about the Normandy SR-1.

There was a long silence, in which he let his gaze rest on the deck plates between their feet. He knew if he looked at her, he would see sympathy and that wasn't anything he could face right now. Not after Sol. It would make it... too real. Garrus needed it to not be real just a little longer.

"Is it almost the end?"

He nodded, staring resolutely at the space between their feet. Shepard's boots were scuffed, he noticed. That meant she'd been too busy doing her 'rounds' to bother cleaning them after this mornings fight.

"Hell, Garrus. I'm so sorry."

She sounded helpless, and he didn't want her to be helpless. Garrus inhaled sharply, ready to say _something_ - who knew what - when she beat him to the punch.

"When will you leave?"

Shock dragged his gaze up sharply. "Shepard. I'm not abandoning the mission. I could never do that."

It was one of those moments that brought home how different their people were. If Solana had known and understood what they were up against, she would never have asked him to come back home. The safety of the community always took precedence over the survival of one individual, and you never walked away from a mission. Garrus knew he wasn't the best turian, but still... No turian could make that choice and be okay with it.

Humans weren't like that. They fought for every single life; he'd seen his very human Commander rail against every unnecessary death under her command. He watched Shepard stare at him unsurely, then she leaned closer. Her hands closed around his own, soft palms curling over his fingers and squeezing lightly.

"Garrus, she's your _mother_. I'm not saying we don't need you, you're the best I've got here. But you should..." Shepard exhaled softly. "You _need_ to be there."

"There's still some time," he managed, fighting for control over the sub harmonics in his voice. Even she must hear how strong they were. "If we make it back from the Collector base, I'll go see her. After."

Shepard's frown was deeper than he'd seen it for a while. "You know as well as I do, we might not make it back."

There was a raw truth in that which they'd never put so brazenly before. He nodded in acceptance. "Yeah. But the Reapers, the Collectors... What we're doing out here is more important. It has to be. My mother would understand that." He smiled faintly. "If I can, I'll explain it to her afterwards, and to Solana. Maybe even to my father, but I doubt he'll believe the Reapers are real. Not unless he saw Palaven burning."

There was a bitterness in his voice he couldn't hide, but Shepard knew that history. They'd talked about his father enough back in the old days, and she didn't question it now.

She did move, though; shifting off the crate, Shepard came to sit beside him on the bench. It creaked under them as she laid a bare human hand on his knee.

"I won't compromise this mission for _anyone_, Vakarian, not even you. I know you'd never ask me to. But I _will _do everything I can to get you back to Palaven in time to say good-bye to your mother." She raised a hand to touch his face carefully. "I can promise that much."

The visor was flashing data at him, things he'd come to learn to interpret as they applied specifically to Shepard. He could see the quick beat of her heart, echoing the swift pulse jumping at her throat. He understood the quicksilver flashes of muscle tension as she fought the urge to do something, anything, to resolve the problem she'd discovered. Shepard was a fixer. She hated an unresolved problem.

He felt his mandibles tilt into a smile, warm affection rushing over him as he listened to her determination and saw it echoed in the secret signals of her body. She would probably do the same for anyone on her crew. The Commander didn't play favorites. If he'd dared, he'd have dragged her close and kissed her for it, but he knew better. Unlike the main battery, the shuttle bay was still littered with Cerberus bugs.

"Shepard," he began, but her hand moved to press against his mouth, silencing him.

"Quiet, big guy. This isn't just about you anyway." Shepard gave a tiny shrug. "I've been stalling on this, because I don't want to lose people if Cerberus decides to screw us over again. But when you get right down to it, we can't wait forever. We're almost ready now. Thane is fighting fit, Samara worked out perfectly this morning, Grunt hasn't lost it once since we got back from Tuchanka. Even Jack's been playing nice."

Her hand slid away from his mouth, settling into a now-familiar pressure against his damaged cheek. Garrus exhaled slowly as he regarded his Commander. "Zaeed came with a price tag," he reminded her.

Shepard nodded. "We'll deal with his Blue Suns issue, then we're going after that Reaper. If that IFF exists, I want it."

Part of him wanted to argue that she was being reckless again, or hasty. But the part that had the same clock ticking away in the back of his head wanted to sigh in relief. It wasn't just his mom. Garrus had made peace with the idea of not seeing her again a long damn time ago. It was the thought of another colony being taken, while they raced around like Cerberus' prized pet, chasing down missing scientists and recovering experimental vehicles.

Not that the Hammerhead wasn't worth the effort they'd put into finding it. But the Collectors wouldn't play this game of hide-and-seek with them forever.

"Okay," he sighed in agreement. What else was there to say? It was her call, and he knew she'd started chafing at the bit again lately. Her impatient behavior on today's mission was just the first sign of it. It was time to go after that Reaper. Time to risk uncertain intel and let the pieces fall where they may. Their options were getting more limited every day.

Shepard smiled, sliding her fingers approvingly over his cheek. "Glad you're behind me on this."

"Well, who knows how long it will take to get that IFF to work for us, if we can even find it?" he answered as calmly as he could. He could feel the warmth of her palm even through the bandage. Did the new cybernetics Chakwas had patched him up with sense the heat, or was that his own leftover nerve endings? Garrus felt his thoughts fraying around the edges, as he frantically wondered whether she remembered where they were. Shepard had been careful to keep the change in their relationship private, no matter what rumors raced through the ship, and he'd followed a lead. This... was unexpected.

Shepard ran a thumb over the edge of his mandible. It was a touch that had become so familiar so quickly, but it still tripped his heart rate into overdrive. That light touch stroking over the only exposed damage on his face sent shivers down his spine.

And for a scarred, broken down vigilante who was too ashamed to hold a vid call with his sister, the press of this tiny humans hand against his bandaged face was more reassurance than Garrus ever hoped to receive.

"You always do that," he said because he had to say something and of all the things racing through his brain just then, that seemed the least likely to get him into trouble.

But Shepard paused, pulling her hand back. In alarm, Garrus saw his visor reporting a faint increase in her heat signature, and realized she was blushing. Embarrassed or angry, he couldn't tell which, but he grabbed her hand sharply with his. With infinite care and absolute determination, the turian pressed her palm back against his bandage-covered face.

"I wasn't complaining," he remarked calmly. "Just an observation. You always touch... that side."

Apparently reassured by his gesture, Shepard relaxed and her hand went back to stroking those slender, dexterous fingers along his scarred mandible. "Do I?" she asked with a small smile. It was the smile he was coming to like the most. The small one, that was a little unsure and a bit sheepish, as if she'd just been caught doing something she didn't think she should be.

"...I think I like them."

Shepard wasn't quite meeting his gaze, her own line of sight skittering across his jaw line and making his mandibles twitch under all that focus. "I hate how you got them... how close you came to dying. But..." Her fingers were ghosting over scar tissue that shouldn't be this damn sensitive to such a gentle touch. "Garrus, you took on three merc gangs and damn near destroyed them all. Alone. You took a missile to the face and lived. I'd be lying if I said that fact wasn't just a little..." She cleared her throat awkwardly, dropping her gaze again. "...Hot."

Garrus blinked; one long, slow blink as he struggled to take in her admission, the elevated pulse rate and core temperature his visor was feeding back to him, putting all this data together into one single truth that damn near blew his mind.

He swallowed hard enough that he could hear it, and pressed his fingers down harder against her own. Drove her touch harder against the scar tissue. "You don't happen to have any krogan DNA, do you Shepard?"

She laughed and it was relieved. Had she expected him to be offended, or disgusted? Garrus watched her smile widen slowly, her eyes sparkling with that dangerous glint that just about killed him everytime he saw it.

"Not last time I checked. Does being an honorary krogan count?" she asked, shifting closer.

His arm curled around her shoulder of its own accord, pulling her closer as she leaned in. "That must be it," Garrus murmured softly, tasting her breath on his tongue the instant before her lips touched him.

Part of him remained aware of their location. Some part of Garrus Vakarian recognized that they were in a public area of the ship. That part of him went numb with startled delight, because Shepard would never have exposed this side of their friendship if she was embarrassed by it.

It was something that had worried him. A human, shacking up with a turian? They were on a boat crewed by xenophobes and it didn't bode well; even the most reasonable humans could still have issues with turians. Given their species shared history, a turian wasn't the best romantic interest for the first human Spectre. But when had Commander Shepard ever let public opinion stand in her way?

Shepard pulled back, seeking out his gaze with a questioning expression. Garrus managed to pull himself together enough to answer her with a reassuring tilt of his mandibles.

"Thanks, Shepard," he murmured quietly.

_For... everything. _

The kiss, the reassurance, but mostly her company at a moment when he was feeling pretty damn crappy about his life in general. On Omega, the darker moods had stolen him away more often than he'd liked, dragging him into guilt and regret that he had only been able to expel with direct violent action. Planning a mission had cleared his head, given him an outlet. But Shepard's presence did the same thing.

It was unexpected. But Garrus figured he preferred this over taking out two-bit mercs.

"Anytime, big guy." Shepard's smile faltered briefly as her gaze slid past him and fixated on something over his shoulder. "What's that about?"

Blinking, Vakarian turned to follow her line of sight. His gaze shifted upward, finding the large, clear viewing panel on the engineering deck. It afforded anyone standing there a clear view of the entire hangar bay but the solitary quarian figure pacing relentless back and forth down the corridor seemed uninterested in the view.

Garrus narrowed the focus of his visor, frowning at the clear signs of distress in the pacing girl. Most quarians had more obvious body language than the other races; it was a way to communicate subtle emotions that were hidden by their suits. But Tali was even more blatant in her mannerisms and the twitching hands and restlessly rolling shoulders said that the young engineer was more upset than he recalled ever seeing her.

"She got that priority call right before we left," Garrus reminded her, pulling the zoom on his visor back and meeting his Commander's concerned gaze. The turian gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Maybe it's bad news all around today?"

Shepard's mouth set into a thin line. He could follow her thoughts with reassuring ease. Foremost of course was the concern for a friend, but riding a sharp secondary was worry over having a key member of their tactical squad wrestling with a personal issue that would distract them from the mission.

He waited her out, and heard the small sigh. "I'll go check on her. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it."

Garrus squeezed her arm lightly and pulled back from her. "I'll run some scenarios for Zaeed's Blue Suns job. Keep me in the loop," was all he said. He got a reassuring pat on the shoulder as she rose and stepped last him.

Listening carefully, he heard the elevator doors open and then close. Peering thoughtfully up through the window, Vakarian waited until he saw Shepard approach the pacing quarian.

His visor was good on visual, but not good enough to pick up audio. He'd have needed Kasumi's help with that, or maybe one of Massani's little bugs. But Garrus could watch as the two women spoke. After a moment, Tali's shoulders slumped and her head dropped down. He saw the Commander step in close, one hand gripping the engineers arm gently, and he could picture Shepard offering quiet, sympathetic reassurances.

_Definitely a bad day all round, _he decided on a sigh.

Garrus turned away from the two women and lay back down on the bench, stretching his legs along its length. Reaching upwards, he gripped the weight bar and lifted it with a grunt.

There was nothing Shepard could do for his mother... But maybe they'd be able to help Tali with her problem.

Hell. Maybe it was enough to know they were ready to make their move on the allegedly derelict Reaper. Once they had that IFF, they could begin planning an assault on the Collector base.

If he was looking for some justification of a greater good to make him feel better, Vakarian decided, that was probably as good as he was going to get.


	20. Chapter 19: This Unconquerable Labyrinth

A/N - All mistakes are my own, let me know if you spot something awful so I can fix it :) I love love LOVE reviews, especially from all you wonderful people who've followed, favorited and stuck with this story for so long. It's nearing the home stretch now, and feedback is always welcome.

* * *

"_Shepard, we're just about done up here_."

Garrus' voice broke over the radio, interrupting what had been a fascinating hour touring the quarian Liveship _Rayya_. Shepard had never been on any quarian ship before today, and the Liveships were something special. She was actually a little surprised they'd let her stick around once the farce that was Tali's trial had wound to its abrupt end. But the Rayya's procurement team had requested permission to trade with the Normandy and she'd been more than happy to agree. Captain Kar'Danna had even graciously allowed her to do a little curious poking about the ship _without_ benefit of a marine escort.

Apparently, pitching a fit at the Admiralty Board in the middle of their public plaza had earned her some respect.

Shepard touched the radio by her ear lightly. "Thanks for taking care of it, Garrus. How did it go?"

Passing through a converted cargo bay, the Commander peered in amazement at the brightly colored material hangings that had been used to separate the cavernous space into countless individual sleeping areas. Some were marked with the same elegant calligraphic glyphs she'd seen in other parts of the ship. It would never have occurred to her that a ship crammed with hundreds of thousands of people could have been beautiful. Conditions were as cramped and close as Shepard knew they had to be, but the quarians had infused their space with a completely unexpected elegance, and a pervading sense of community.

_"We're stocked up on spares and a few extras I think you'll like. I'm glad I had Tali with me. Their traders drive a hard bargain_."

It made her smile, as she sidestepped a pair of quarians and began heading for the nearest corridor. "Better you than me, big guy. The only way I can get a discount is to endorse everyone I come across, and somehow I don't think the quarians give a damn that I'm the first human Spectre."

His low, flanging laugh echoed in her ear. "_Well, we've got Donnelly and Daniels sorting out the supplies we promised. In a few hours, we'll be on our way_."

On their way, and heading straight for that damn Reaper.

Shepard left the bright, cheerful cargo bay behind her, and began to make her way back to the docking bay where her team were waiting. It had been a rough couple of hours, and she wasn't looking forward to riding straight into hell once they hit the Hawking Eta sector. She was even more worried about the quarian in her team who'd already been through hell once today.

"How's Tali holding up?" she asked.

There was a pause, and when Vakarian answered, his voice was low and careful. _"Her father just died, and her people tried to declare her a traitor and have her exiled. It hasn't been a great day for her. But... she's tough. She'll be okay, Shepard_."

Sighing, Shepard nodded regretfully. They'd somehow saved Tali from being exiled, but nothing could have saved her father. There wasn't much they could do for her, and it wasn't like Shepard could give her any time off to get over it. They were ultimately heading for what was probably a suicide mission and she needed all hands on deck, but the thought of sending Tali into combat right now made her feel pretty crappy.

"Yeah, she's tough," Shepard agreed softly. "Keep an eye on her. I'll be there soon."

The radio clicked off in her ear, and Shepard pulled up the map program Tali had downloaded to her suit. The Rayya was a complicated maze of corridors and passageways, vastly altered from its original structure. Tali had admitted that even natives still relied on the map to get around unfamiliar sectors of the ship. Shepard plotted what seemed like the quickest path back to the docking bay holding the Normandy and her team.

She was passing through a relatively quiet corridor when she spotted a familiar figure heading in her direction. It was always difficult to tell unfamiliar quarians apart; you had to go on body language and suit design until they spoke. But even without rank insignia, there was no mistaking Admiral Shala'Raan vas Tonbay. Watching the Admiral slow to speak to her, Shepard found herself questioning the likelihood that their crossing paths like this was a coincidence.

Somehow, she doubted it.

"Captain Shepard," the quarian greeted pleasantly.

It was still a little strange hearing her name linked to a rank she would never attain. "Admiral," Shepard answered, pulling out a polite smile.

After today, she didn't exactly have fond feelings for the quarian Admiralty Board, and her misgivings about this particular Admiral were quite strong. Raan might have been Tali's "aunt" but she had also deliberately withheld vital information. Tali chose to belief Raan acted in her best interests; Shepard remained a little more skeptical.

"I apologise for interrupting. I was hoping that we might speak privately before you return to the Normandy?"

_I'm pretty sure I said everything I needed to at that damned trial of yours._

The polite smile slipped a little, hardening around the edges. "I'm free now."

Raan's hands twitched faintly at her side, in an echo of Tali's nervous habit. "I appreciate that, Captain. Will you walk with me?"

Shepard didn't know how much privacy you could get on a quarian ship, but she gave an amiable nod and fell into step beside the Admiral. What she did know was that if Raan had deliberately sought her out, she probably wasn't going to like the reason behind it. "What's this about, Admiral?"

Quarian Admiral's were the ultimate authority on their ships, and Shepard's bluntness was a deliberate slap in the face of that authority. When Raan didn't react at all, the Commander knew that this was about more than a trial or a trade meet.

Raan gazed down the length of the corridor. "In your testimony at Tali's trial today, you spoke of an enemy that your Citadel Council has denied. You call them Reapers."

To be honest, Shepard had been so angry at the Admiralty Board, she barely remembered the livid rant she'd directed at them. Tali had called it 'inspiring' and, of course, Garrus had gotten in another dig about her pep talks.

She eyed the quarian sideways as they walked along a surprisingly uncrowded corridor. "Tali can verify their existence."

"I have heard the story of Tali's Pilgrimage," Shala'Raan answered, keeping her voice pitched low despite the emptiness of the corridor. "After she returned to us, the Admiralty Board concluded that they did not recognise the existence of these Reapers."

Shepard snorted. _Sounds familiar._

Raan glanced over at her. "But _I_ do. I believe Tali'Zorah... and I believe _you_, Captain. That is why I have come to speak with you. You have seen the state of our government, and its priorities."

From what Tali had said, her people had been as uninterested in the truth about Sovereign as the Citadel Council had been. Raan's admission was unexpected, and an unhappy suspicion seized the Commander as she made the obvious leap of logic. "Your Admiralty Board is going to vote for war on the geth, aren't they?"

Shadows played heavily across Raan's face plate as she bowed her head. "I believe they will do so. Yes."

Shepard felt her stomach twist uneasily. The Migrant Fleet was easily the largest collection of ships in the galaxy. They _needed_ to keep the Fleet intact and ready for when the Reapers came. She knew in her bones that it was only a matter of when, not if.

"It's a mistake. You have to stop them," she warned.

They passed into another corridor; this one apparently curled alongside the edge of the Rayya for every few steps there was a long viewing window, marked with the now-familiar glyphs. Raan said nothing for a time, but her hands curled and uncurled at her sides.

"We have been in space for too long, Captain. There are too many voices now agitating for war, and those who dissent are divided on the alternatives. They argue that we should stay in space, seek another world, or even make peace with the geth. And every day... Every day the faction pushing us to retake Rannoch grows louder and stronger." Raan shook her head. "I fear this war is inevitable."

"Dammit." Any way she looked at it, this was bad. The geth were a known ally to their enemy, but even if they could be destroyed or rendered useless to the Reapers, it would come at too great a cost. "Admiral, if you throw yourselves into a war with the geth, you _might_ win. You might even reclaim Rannoch. But when the Reapers get here, you won't be strong enough to turn them back. I _need_ the Flotilla to be ready."

The Admiral at her side paused mid-step, and turned to face her. Belatedly, Shepard pulled up as well; even through the shadows clouding the face plate, it was apparent that Raan was studying her intently.

"I was the one who released Tali to join your crew for this mission, but she would not tell me its nature. Only that it was of vital importance to the galaxy." Those bright, strange quarian eyes shone from the shadows. "It _is_ the Reapers that you hunt?"

It was the moment where she balanced caution against the chance to win an ally to her cause, and the decision rested on whether she was willing to trust this woman. A woman who had simultaneously supported them in Tali's trial, and also hidden the details of the Alarei's attack from them to maximise their advantage. Shepard hesitated for only a moment. Whatever else Raan was or wasn't, she was as much a political creature as the rest of the Admiralty. If someone like that could buy into the Reaper threat, they might have a chance on bringing the quarians into the fight when the time came.

"I'm hunting their agents," she admitted quietly. "The Reapers are coming, and they don't care if your Fleet is ready or not. You saw what one of them - _one_ - did to the Citadel."

Raan exhaled, seeming to draw in on herself. "How long do we have?"

It was the one question that Shepard couldn't answer with any certainty. "I don't know. Right now their agents are focussing on the human colonies... maybe they plan to pick us off one species at a time." It was an unappealing scenario and one that had plagued her on more than one long sleepless night. "What I do know is that our only hope of stopping them is to start preparing _now_. Everyday they don't show is one more day we have to get ready for them."

She could hear the urgency in her own voice, and knew it was a delicate, familiar line she had to walk. Balancing on that razors edge between inspiring action and sounding like a crazy person. The Citadel Council, and the Admiralty Board itself, had apparently decided on the latter. Shepard watched carefully as Shala'Raan made the decision to risk the former.

"Then we have only one option left to us, Captain. If we are to avoid war with the geth, we will need a more passionate voice to argue against it."

The Commander blinked. "You have someone in mind?"

Something about Raan gave the suggestion that she was smiling. "The Admiralty Board used this trial as an excuse to argue their own causes, but in doing so they have brought Tali'Zorah to the attention of her people. Her father was an Admiral, and his position now stands vacant."

Shock rendered her silent as Shepard grasped Raan's meaning. Although she was hardly an expert on quarian culture, she knew enough to realize that their ranks weren't inherited. The election of a new Admiral would be a political dogfight, drawing from a surplus of experienced, renowned members of the Fleet. What Raan was suggesting was extreme and highly unusual...

_And brilliant. _

The audacity of it appealed to Shepard; she felt her mouth curving into a grin. "I can't see the other Admirals accepting someone so young."

"Age is not always an indication of experience," Raan answered easily. "Particularly not in the case of Tali'Zorah vas Normandy. Don't you agree, Captain?"

"I can't argue that."

"I have kept my distance from this conflict because I didn't see a path out. Now I do." Raan straightened, the uncertainty of a moment ago vanishing as if it had never been. "Tali is the closest thing our people have to an expert on the Reapers. I will force the Admiralty Board to accept her if I must, but she will gain the authority to guide us when the time comes."

For a moment, Shepard wondered if Tali would be pissed that she'd inadvertently gotten her nominated for an Admiralty. It didn't sound as if Raan intended to give her much of a choice in the matter. Tali was cold as ice in combat, but hated public speaking.

_Still, it has to be a better option than exile, right?_

"I hope they listen," Shepard answered eventually. There were some headstrong personalities within the Admiralty, judging from what she'd seen today, but what she said was true. If they would listen to Tali, it would mean a unified Fleet ready and willing to strike. It was the best possible outcome, but there was no denying it was a long shot.

"Thank you for your time, Captain... And for your willingness to accept Tali'Zorah vas Normandy under your command."

Shepard might not be an expert on quarian culture, but even she knew the importance of the ship name. Whether the Admiralty Board insisting that Tali retain the _vas Normandy_ title was a deliberate insult or a compliment, she was less clear on. However the quarians might regard one of their own bound to an alien vessel, Commander Shepard only had one opinion on the matter.

"_That_ was my honor, Admiral."

* * *

While the crew handled the transfer of goods with the Rayya, Shepard retreated to her cabin. In another hour or so, they'd be done here and the Normandy would be hunting a dead Reaper. A smart Commander would use the time to get some rest, but Shepard was still too tense, running a dozen scenarios for the upcoming retrieval mission.

Intersecting with Reapers, dead or alive, was always dangerously unpredictable, and this one came with a few too many Cerberus entanglements for her comfort.

Instead, she distracted herself by working on her armor. There'd been a firefight, some insignificant little scrap about a week or so ago, and she'd taken fire across her right shoulder. The nasty burn had long since healed on her own flesh, but the shot must have knocked something about on her armor, because she'd been having trouble with that shoulder joint ever since.

She'd been at it long enough for the tension to have eased away, relaxing under the careful focus of her task, when a sudden thump at the door intruded on the silence. Pausing, Shepard lowered the piece of ablative armor to the bench and crossed her cabin. It wasn't often she got visitors this late into the third shift.

And she almost never got such appealing visitors. Shepard regarded the turian hovering unsurely in the corridor with a welcoming smile.

"Garrus. I wasn't expecting company." Her eyes flicked quickly over the lean lines exposed by his sleek undersuit, then back up to the ever-present visor.

Vakarian coughed. "Sorry to intrude, Shepard."

"Don't be ridiculous. Come on in." Stepping back, she watched in amusement as he edged carefully inside the cabin. His head twisted slightly, and she could see the sharp flash on his visor display; he was casing the room as if it were a battlefield.

_Well, it's not like he spends a lot of time up here._

In fact, she realized in surprise, this was the first time they'd been alone in her cabin since they'd started this relationship. If that's what it was.

With amused affection, Shepard waited patiently for him to finish his brief reconnaissance. She hesitated when she saw his attention hover briefly over the desk, where the Illusive Man had left the gift of Kaidan's photo; his mandibles twitched to see it missing but he didn't comment. Not on that, anyway.

"You weren't at the celebration, thought I'd check in on you."

The flanging in his voice was low and subtle, but even without that distortion his words made no sense to her.

"Celebration?" the Commander asked, puzzled. As far as she knew, there was nothing to celebrate right now.

"Mmmm," Vakarian nodded, mandibles tilted into a faint grin. "Joker's idea. He wanted to welcome Tali to the ship properly, now that she's taken the Normandy's name. Turns out, quarians have something like this whenever they take a new shipname."

Well. There was that.

She found herself shaking her head in surprise. The pilot stuck to his chair, making sarcastic comments and vaguely off-color jokes and you forgot how damn much he noticed. It was easy to dismiss him as the wise-cracking cynic, and then he went and did something like this.

"Everyone's down there?" Shepard asked, and watched him nod. "Even Jack?" Another nod, this time matched with a definite gleam in those bright blue eyes.

"Don't worry, Shepard. I left Samara babysitting," Garrus assured her.

Shepard relaxed, feeling the corners of her mouth creep up in amusement. "At least they're bonding. Remind me to thank Joker. It looked like Tali could use something to cheer her up."

Garrus leaned back, his attention running briefly over the room again; he paused to gaze over the armor bench scattered with tools and pieces of ablative armor, then looked back to her. "I get the feeling she's not the only one. Still having problems with your armor?"

It didn't surprise her that Vakarian was aware of her growing restlessness, and her unease over their next mission. She suspected he shared it in full measure.

"You know me, big guy. It was either that or go annoy the hell out of Joker till we get to Mnemosyne."

"Maybe this will keep you distracted," Garrus remarked quietly, holding out a hand. It was only then she realized he had been holding something, kept deliberately out of view behind the line of his hip.

Shepard blinked at the brightly colored box he offered, heavily marked with quarian glyphs and asari calligraphy. Her gaze narrowed as she read the small human translation along the side.

_Cassidy's Collectibles: Quarian freighter model. As seen in Fleet and Flotilla!_

"What is -?" She took it from his hands, turning it over in confusion. Shepard peered up at him. _A model starship?_ Hell, she hadn't seen one of these since she was a kid. "Where did you even find this?"

Garrus gave a diffident shrug. "On the Alarei. I figured it's previous owner wouldn't need it anymore and... I know you like them."

His restless gaze shifted again, veering towards her desk with the rack of assembled ship models set above it.

Her hands stilled around the box, feeling it's weight press heavily against them as Shepard suddenly understood why he'd come knocking at her door so late.

_A gift._ _He got me a gift._

Something that wasn't armor or a new weapon mod; something that had nothing to do with war or combat or Reapers. Something completely disconnected from the barely-controlled chaos that was their lives.

Shepard regarded the turian trying his best to appear cool and unconcerned. Garrus was at his most adorable when he was feeling awkward. Surprise gave way to a surge of warm affection, and she reached out a hand to touch his forearm lightly. "Thanks, big guy." She curled her fingers around his arm, tugging forcefully enough that he couldn't miss the invitation. Garrus stepped in willingly, and those long turian arms surrounded her as she hugged him tightly. "I don't even mind that you stole it," she purred teasingly by his ear.

His low answering laugh filled the cabin as Shepard drew back. Lifting her chin, she regarded him hopefully.

"Can you stay for a while? I could use the company."

"I'm not interrupting?"

The Commander carefully lay his gift on her desk. "Definitely not," she assured her friend, stepping down into the conversation pit nestled beneath the display of model starships.

The heavier tread of his boots on the deck plating told her he was following. Settling herself into a couch, Shepard smiled as he awkwardly did the same in the human-style chair. "I'd offer you something to drink, but Chambers finished up the bottle Cerberus stocked me with," she apologized.

"Probably just as well." He gave her that lazy grin she'd come to recognise quite well lately. "I promised myself I'd keep my hands to myself, and I don't have the best impulse control when I'm drunk."

It was so unexpected that Shepard nearly swallowed her tongue trying not to laugh. "Damn, Vakarian. I'll have to remember that." He was nervous. He always flirted more outrageously when he was nervous.

His eyes sparkled with amusement, the visor glinting as he watched her. "Make you a deal. I'll bring the wine next time, and you can make sure I don't do anything foolish."

She grinned. "You're on." Tilting her gaze up, Shepard regarded the model starships hanging above his head thoughtfully. "You know, I haven't put one of those things together since I was a kid. That lot came from Cerberus. The Illusive Man's little joke, probably."

Garrus shifted, perching at the edge of the couch so there was room for his leg spurs. "Sorry it wasn't anything fancier, but... Well, you know what they say about a vigilantes salary."

_Particularly when most of it is being shipped home to cover medical bills, huh?_

Now that she knew about his mothers condition, his frugalness made sense. She'd just figured it was a turian trait, although in retrospect, Shepard did remember him blowing most of his cash on rifle mods back on the original Normandy.

"I've been military so long, I don't think I'd know what to do with _fancy,_" Shepard answered on a sigh. "If it doesn't come with a military barcode, it's probably beyond me."

His chuckle was low and familiar. "You signed up almost as young as I did."

She'd always wondered a bit about what a youthful Garrus Vakarian would have been like. Impetuous, probably, and a bit wild. He'd been reckless enough even after C-Sec had spent a few years rubbing the rough edges away.

"You've been civ longer than me."

Garrus made a dubious noise. "Not sure C-Sec really qualifies as civilian, Shepard. At least, not the way my section head used to run it."

"Did you ever consider staying in the Fleet?" She'd always been curious about his choices, because so many of them seemed to make no sense. Garrus was a soldier, but he struggled with the blind obedience that job demanded.

If the question surprised him, he didn't show it. Garrus shrugged slightly. "My people all enlist at fifteen, to get our citizenship. I did my tour and that was it. My father wanted me to join C-Sec, so I did." The gaze he leveled at her was wry and only a little regretful. "I've told you before, Shepard. I'm a lousy turian, but when I was younger... I did _try._"

She didn't bring up his father's anger at his leaving C-Sec. That was old territory, for both of them. But the question she really wanted to ask, the one about what would he do with his life _after_, didn't quite make it out. Instead, Shepard cleared her throat and glanced away.

"You were a good cop. You have the right instincts."

Vakarian snorted. "I made a better vigilante than cop, Shepard. We both know that. Omega is a hole, but at least I wasn't drowning in red tape there, trying to make a difference." He leaned back in the seat, finding a more comfortable position. "How about you? Ever consider leaving the Alliance?"

_That_ startled her. "Hell, Garrus. Military life is all I know. Humans are different to your people... Turians are still in service no matter what you do. The line between military and civilian is much bigger with my people. It's huge." The Commander thought about it briefly, feeling laughter bubble up in her as she shook her head. Trying to imagine life as a civilian was beyond her.

"You'd make an excellent cop, Shepard. I could probably still put in a good word for you, if you wanted."

Shepard smirked at the thought. "Somehow I can't see the Council accepting me into Citadel Security... But thanks for the offer, big guy."

The humor faded from his expression; Garrus leaned forward, resting his hands between his legs. "If you hadn't joined up... If you'd had the choice... What would you have done instead?"

It wasn't unexpected, but it still made her pause. Buried in the innocence of that question was a whole world of associated history that she really didn't want to dig into.

"I don't know. I was just a kid when Mindoir was attacked. When the marines found me..." Shepard shrugged, remembering the flash of lights as the squad conducted it's search pattern. The batarians had been long gone by the time the Alliance arrived, and she'd been found while scrounging food from a neighbors kitchen. The squad's medic had needed to sedate her; she'd attacked the marine who grabbed her, thinking they were more batarians. "Ancient history, anyway. By the time they had me on a shuttle leaving planet, I'd already decided I was going to sign up."

She looked up and found Garrus studying her thoughtfully.

"You don't talk about it," he noted quietly. "Mindoir, I mean."

Shepard felt the familiar knot of old regret settle in her chest. It was like an old wound that had never quite healed properly. Most of the time she could ignore it, but an accidental knock always had it aching again. Holding back a sigh, she forced a smile for him. "There's not much to talk about. Like I said, ancient history."

Her face felt tight and hot, and the restless feeling intensified. She was about to stand, maybe put on some music to break the silence, when his hand settled gently over hers. Shepard stilled under his touch instantly; it was a phenomenon she couldn't understand but was becoming quite familiar with. Something about his touch soothed her. Settled her.

When she dared look upwards to meet his gaze, his expression was so open and... affectionate... that it took her breath away.

"I didn't ask about the batarians," Garrus replied softly, one finger moving lightly over the back of her hand. It raised shivers along her spine. "I want to know what life was like for you, on a human colony. _Before._"

Hell. It was exactly how she thought of it too. There had been life _Before_ the batarians came, and then there was life _After_. After the year of intensive headshrinking to normalize her from the trauma, Shepard hadn't talked about Before very often. Nobody asked. Nobody except Garrus would.

It was second nature to refuse, and divert the conversation. But Garrus deserved more than that. He'd told her about his mother, after all.

So for the first time in years, Shepard tried to remember what it had been like - _Before_. It was hard to remember back beyond the burned-out shells of buildings, and the corpses littering the roadways. Thousands of inconsequential days and nights in her early life, and all she remembered clearly were the two weeks of hell between the attack and when the marines showed up.

"It was... peaceful. Quiet. We lived at the south edge of the colony, on a few hectares of land." That distance had given her time to hide, and helped her survive. Those in the colony centre had all died or been taken by the batarian slavers. Shepard sighed. "Horizon reminded me a lot of Mindoir, actually. It was new. Busy. There was always work to be done."

Garrus was still stroking her hand, lightly, rhythmically; it was the same deft, certain touch he used to clean his guns. There was too much metaphor in that comparison.

"Tell me about your parents?"

The familiar, flanging voice was gentle but not careful. He wasn't talking to her as if afraid the wrong word would set her off, like most people did if the topic came up. He was calm, supportive, but he looked at her with absolute certainty that she could do this. Talk about this.

The least she could do was try.

"Mom was an agri-farmer, a total ground pounder. She was the one who pushed for them to join a colony after they were married. My dad..." Shepard paused. "He was the adventurer. He was a freighter pilot before they moved to Mindoir. Actually..." She glanced up, smiling faintly. "My model ship collection started with the types of ships he'd flown."

The light reflected off Garrus' visor as he leaned in. "And he took you camping."

Remembering that night in the Kodiak on Tuchanka, she smiled. "Yeah. We would lie outside beside the camp fire for hours... There was this spot, it was far enough from the colony that the lights weren't that bright and we could see the stars. Dad taught me how to recognize the constellations by telling me about places he'd been. I'd pick a star and he'd tell me a story about something he'd seen in that sector."

Garrus' expression changed into something she couldn't quite interpret. When he stood and extended a hand to her, she was surprised. He waited, wearing a patient smile, until she accepted the silent invitation. Her hand curled around his and she let him pull her to her feet. When she realized he was leading her to the bed, she got even more confused.

"Changed your mind then?" she asked, trying for a teasing tone but hearing only uncertainty in her own voice.

Instead of the awkwardness she expected, Garrus just chuckled. He pushed lightly against her chest, and she let herself fall backwards onto the bed. Shepard had no idea what was going on, and usually that feeling pissed her off but right now she was more than willing to go with it. She watched in fascination as he crawled with inhuman grace onto the bed beside her.

"Lay back, Shepard," purred that low, familiar voice and she followed instructions in bemusement. She couldn't seem to look away from him, as he settled beside her, raised up on one arm. "Look up."

Never in her wildest imagining, had she expected to have a turian lying in her bed.

Inhaling carefully, Shepard rolled her gaze upwards and found herself staring through the viewport in her cabin roof. The one that had earned this room the nickname "loft"; the one that opened up onto a view of the deep, dark void glittering sharply with bright white stars.

Her breath left her in a rush, her face went numb, cold and then burning hot as she realized what he was doing.

"When we were on Tuchanka, you promised we would go camping sometime." His voice was a soft, flanging purr in her ear. "There's no way of knowing what's on the other side of that relay so why wait?"

Shepard reached out blindly and caught his hand in her own. Judging from how quickly he curled his fingers around hers, how he let her clench them until surely she must be cutting off blood flow, he must understand what this meant to her.

He was Garrus Vakarian. Of course he understood.

It wasn't Mindoir. Mindoir was long gone, even the ashes of their colony scattered on the winds. She'd said her farewells to that life a long damn time ago, and made her peace with what she'd lost. But like Tali, their home was the Normandy now. Her family was lying right beside her; her family was celebrating the new addition two decks down.

Shepard glanced over just enough to meet his gaze. "What would I do without you, Garrus vas Normandy?"

Vakarian's mandibles tilted into a surprised smile at the name, and his hand curled more tightly around her own. "Probably get your head blown off. How you made it long enough to become the first human Spectre without someone watching your back, I'll never know."

The laughter eased out of her in a rush, grateful and relieved. She felt him nudge her lightly, and lay back again. His body was a long line of heat against her side, as they stared quietly at the slowly pinwheeling starscape visible above them.

"Pick one," Vakarian said softly.

Her heart thudded heavily in her chest as she looked over the constellations laid before them. The Normandy had her belly to the Flotilla to aid faster loading, so the loft looked out into an uninterrupted expanse of familiar stars.

Shepard raised her free hand and pointed. "There. That one."

"The Caleston Rift," Garrus identified it, and his low lazy drawl filled the room. "You remember about ten years back, the last time piracy was heating up in the Solveig system? I was still with the Fleet then, and we were refueling at Thrivaldi when some particularly ambitious pirates tried to take us on. Three of them, a pair of corvettes and a beat up old frigate. The GARDIAN turrets were lighting them up, but they had a hell of a pilot on that frigate. We couldn't pin it down, and the corvettes used it as cover to get in close enough to board."

She could so clearly picture that much-younger Garrus Vakarian, focused and intent in a crisis.

"How'd that play out?" Shepard asked.

"There were a half dozen of them, up against a fully crewed turian cruiser. It turned out as well as you'd think. The boarding party was taken captive. The frigate wasn't as fortunate." His voice assumed that 'modest' tone that meant he was trying not to sound smug. "I, ah, got a lucky shot with the Callies. Torpedo right through their eezo core."

Shepard's eyes widened. "Lucky shot, huh?" she teased gently. Garrus had the moves, no doubt about that. "I knew there was a reason I put you in charge of the guns."

The silence lay like a warm, familiar blanket over them for a moment. Then he nudged her again. "Your turn, Shepard vas Normandy."

She grinned up at the galaxy. She didn't know where her restlessness had gone, but the twisting unease over tomorrow's mission seemed to have vanished completely. In fact, she would have been hard pressed to remember the last time she'd felt this relaxed. One thing she'd learnt over the years was not to question the good times. You just enjoyed them, as long as they lasted.

"Alright, Vakarian." She stroked her thumb over his hand, and gazed over the slow-spinning starscape peacefully. "Pick one."

Chuckling, he obeyed; a long turian finger pointed deliberately at a cluster of stars.

"Ahhh, good choice. Artemis Tau..."

Shepard cast her memory back, mentally sorting through long-ago missions. Most of her history was classified and compartmentalised, but after a moment of thought, she had something. Garrus was watching her from the corner of his eye, the barest hint of a grin tugging at his uninjured mandible as he waited. All those missions, and how many times had she spent the hours beforehand, wound up and waiting?

Yeah, there were worse ways to spend the night before a big mission than enjoying a peaceful hour or two with her best friend. Whatever happened on that Reaper, they'd deal with it. That was tomorrow. She smiled and picked a memory from the Artemis Tau sector.

"Okay, Vakarian. Let me tell you about my final solo mission when I was training for my N-7 qualification..."


End file.
